Trial By Fire
by Sara Wolfe
Summary: What if Edmund had been the first to enter Narnia?
1. Nighttime Wanderings

**Trial By Fire**

**Chapter One: Nighttime Wanderings**

_It all began with a glass of water._

_At least, that's what Edmund told himself in later years. Yes, circumstances and his own natural curiosity led him into going through the wardrobe and into Narnia, but the glass of water was what had gotten him out of bed in the first place._

_Oh, how well he remembered…_

Peter Pevensie awoke from a sound sleep during his first night at the professor's house, to see a dark shape rising from the bed next to his.

"Ed, it's the middle of the night," he said, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?"

Edmund glared at his older brother as he defiantly stood up.

"I'm thirsty and I'm going to get a drink of water," he snapped, quietly, so as not to wake his sisters in the next room. "Do you mind?"

"Macready makes nightly bed checks, and if she catches you out of bed, she'll be furious," Peter told him. "Can't this wait until morning?"

"No, it can't," Edmund said, as he walked toward the door, now more to annoy Peter than to go for the water, itself.

"You're going to get in a lot of trouble," Peter warned him. "And when you do, don't expect me to bail you out of it."

Edmund snorted, and returned to his bed, laying his pillows lengthwise on the bed before covering them with his blankets.

"That's not going to fool her, you know," Peter observed, coolly.

"I don't care," Edmund said, stalking out of the room they shared.

He made it to the bathroom and downed three cups of water, before he'd calmed down enough to stop shaking with anger.

He didn't like being away from home, away from Mom and Dad. He didn't like how everyone around him insisted on treating him like a child. He didn't like that Dad was off at war, risking his life for a bunch of people they didn't even know. And, most of all, he didn't like this place, with its elusive Professor, and the uptight Mrs. Macready, and all the rules. Don't run, don't shout, don't get underfoot, and don't disturb the Professor.

_'There probably is no Professor,'_ Edmund thought cynically. _'He's probably just someone Macready created to scare little kids. Like Lucy.'_

Thinking of his little sister only served to make him angry all over again. Peter and Susan thought he was cruel in the way he treated Lucy, when they'd conveniently forgotten that they'd treated him the same way when he had been Lucy's age.

_'But then that's the way it is,'_ he thought, bitterly. _'Peter's the responsible, mature one, Susan's the perfect one, Lucy's the cute one, and me? I'm the screw-up.'_

Edmund noticed that he was becoming agitated, all over again, so he took a few deep, slow breaths to calm himself. When he'd cooled out of his temper and felt ready to face his family without betraying his hidden emotions, he left the bathroom, but froze when he heard a heavy footfall nearing him.

_'Macready,'_ he thought, looking around frantically for an escape. _'If she catches me out here, I'm dead!'_

Moving as silently as he could, he ran along the length of the hallway, trying doorknobs as he went. Room after room was locked, and he was cursing his bad luck, as the footsteps got closer, when a doorknob turned noiselessly in his grip. Not stopping to think about it, he ducked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

The room was empty, except for a large, ornately decorated wardrobe placed in the center of the room. Edmund was about to lean against the door with relief when it struck him that Macready might be checking the rooms, themselves.

Desperately, he lunged across the room and wrenched the door of the wardrobe open. He lurched inside, pulling the door closed behind him, just as the doorknob turned. Leaving the wardrobe door propped open slightly, so as not to lock himself in, Edmund held his breath and began backing up, expecting at any moment to touch the rough wood of the back paneling with his fingers. Instead, to his immense surprise, he encountered what felt like pine needles.

Forgetting the need to be quiet, Edmund whirled around in surprise, and stared, shocked at the sight before him. The wardrobe had no back. Instead, he saw before him a long stretch of snow-covered land, with two mountain peaks in the distance.

Edmund blinked slowly, before looking around. As though to reassure him that he wasn't dreaming, the coats and other clothing items of the wardrobe surrounded him on three sides. A large pine tree stood almost directly in front of him. Putting out a hand, Edmund touched first one of the coats, and then the tree's branch. Both felt incredibly real, and Edmund felt himself swelling inexplicably with amazement.

Slowly, as though in a trance, Edmund continued forward. He stopped the instant his slipper-shod feet touched snow, however, and thinking quickly, he shoved his feet into a pair of boots and pulled one of the fur coats on over his pajamas. Then, he continued forward into the stillness, looking at the world around him in wonder.

"This is amazing," he whispered, fearing that he would break whatever spell he was under if he spoke any louder. He walked until he reached a lamppost burning brightly in the middle of the wooded clearing and he could no longer see the wardrobe.

Then, he stopped cold at the sound of a branch breaking. A rush of fear made his chest tighten, and he looked around, nervously.

"Hello?" he called out, softly, even as a little voice in his head wondered if making his presence known was such a bright idea.

Behind him, the trees rustled, and he whirled in time to see a magnificent chestnut stallion stepping delicately towards him.

"Oh," he gasped, as the horse approached him slowly. "Aren't you gorgeous?"

"Thank you," the horse replied.

Edmund gave an undignified yelp, stumbling backwards and tripping over his feet to land in a heap in the snow. His eyes grew wide as the stallion came closer.

"You talked!" he said, wondering if he was going mad. "Horses don't talk."

"In Narnia they do," the horse replied, clearly nonplused. "And my name is Philip, just so you know."

Edmund scrambled to his feet, eyeing Philip warily.

"My name is Edmund," he said, after a moment. "Edmund Pevensie."

The horse considered him for a long moment, and then spoke again.

"Tell me, Edmund Pevensie, are you a Son of Adam?"

"A what?" Edmund asked, before his Biblical knowledge came back to him, and he thought he understood.

"Do you mean Adam and Eve?" he asked. "The first people, who were created by God?"

"Of course," Philip said.

"I guess so," Edmund said slowly, amazed at how quickly he adjusted to the idea of a talking horse, "although we just call ourselves humans."

"Human, then," Philip said. "And your land is called Earth?"

"Ye-es," Edmund replied, wondering just what Philip was getting at.

"Do you have any siblings?" Philip asked, rather than assuaging Edmund's curiosity.

"Three," Edmund answered. "One brother and two sisters. Why do you want to know?" he demanded.

"Forgive me," Philip told him, "but I have a reason for my questions. You see, Narnia is stricken by the curse of an evil witch, and we have suffered an endless winter for one hundred years.

"But there is a prophecy that states that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit on the thrones of Cair Paravel, the witch's reign will end, and winter will be broken."

"And where is Cair Paravel?" Edmund asked, his curiosity dragging the question out of him.

"It is by the sea," Philip replied. "The White Witch seeks to overtake it, furthering her control over Narnia and its people."

"She sounds awful," Edmund whispered, shivering instinctively in fear.

"She is," Philip told him. "But now that you have come here, you and your siblings can defeat her and save us."

"Wait a minute," Edmund began, but Philip tossed his head, suddenly, and pranced closer to Edmund.

"Get on my back," he said, quietly. "Hurry, quickly," he insisted, as Edmund hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Edmund asked, frightened, as he hoisted himself onto Philip's bareback and grabbed a handful of his mane, grateful for the summers he'd spent horseback riding on his uncle's farm.

"The Secret Police," Philip told him, starting forward, looking around cautiously. "The White Witch must know you're here, if she's sent her wolves out on the hunt."

"Wolves?" Edmund whispered, feeling terror bloom inside him. "Can you outrun wolves?"

"We're about to find out," Philip said, grimly.

Edmund swallowed hard, settling himself more firmly on Philip's back as Philip launched into a brisk canter. Then, they both heard a faint howl, and Philip broke into a swift gallop. Edmund clung tightly to his mane, sticking to the stallion's back like a burr.

"I don't see any wolves," Edmund said, but promptly took back his words as he caught a flash of gray through the white of the snow all around them.

"They're faster than I thought," Philip said, increasing his already frantic pace. "We may not be able to outrun them. We may have to fight."

"Fight how?" Edmund whimpered, fearfully.

"Any way we can," Philip told him.

They ran in silence for a few moments that seemed to last an eternity. The only sounds Edmund heard were Philip's hoof beats on the hard-packed snow, and his own frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Suddenly, Philip slammed to a halt, and Edmund was thrown up on his neck. Looking forward, he saw, to his immense terror, a large gray wolf blocking their path.

"Give me the boy," the wolf growled, as the rest of his pack surrounded them slowly. "Turn over the Son of Adam, and we let you live."

"You're not going to touch him, Maugrim," Philip declared. In a lower voice, he told Edmund, "Stay on my back, no matter what happens."

Edmund nodded, too terrified to do anything else, and Philip rolled his eyes back to look at the wolves advancing on them. Suddenly, without any warning, Philip lashed out, catching one of the wolves squarely in the stomach with his massive back hooves. Even as the wolf flew backward to slam into a tree, Philip whirled around and reared, bringing his weight down on another wolf's head.

Edmund clung desperately to Philip as the stallion turned into a demon, using his hooves and teeth in a decidedly deadly manner. But it wasn't enough. Slowly, he was being worn down by the wolves' relentless attacks.

_'I have to do something!' _Edmund thought, desperately. As if in answer to his silent despair, the tree they were under suddenly groaned and a large branch dropped directly into his lap.

Not stopping to think about his sudden good fortune, Edmund seized the thick branch with both hands and swung with all his might at a wolf that lunged at Philip's hindquarters. The wolf yelped in pain as Edmund's makeshift weapon connected solidly with its face, and fell back, blood streaming from several new wounds.

"You'll pay for that, human," the wolf vowed, readying itself to spring again, but at that moment, Philip suddenly launched himself out of the circle the pack had formed, and raced away.

Not daring to let go of his weapon, Edmund tucked the branch in close to his body as he gripped a chunk of Philip's mane in his fist, the wind stinging his face as they ran.

"The pack," Philip gasped, doubling his pace. "Are they following us?"

Edmund glanced under his arm, looking for any telltale flashes of gray on white.

"I don't think so," he said, after a moment.

"Good," Philip said. "But just in case-"

His voice trailed off as he veered sharply to the right, a move that nearly unseated Edmund. For a few more seconds, they ran along a trail, then Edmund heard the splashing of water.

"The rivers and streams are thawing," Philip said, as they galloped along the river. "If they were still frozen, I couldn't do this, but the flowing water will wash away our scent tracks."

"That's good," Edmund whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.

Suddenly, Philip leapt out of the river and onto the bank, his pace slowing from a frantic gallop to a steady trot, following the curve of a rock face looming on their right side. Up ahead, Edmund thought he saw a dark area, and his suspicions were confirmed when Philip swerved into a well-hidden cave entrance. He stopped when they reached the back, his sides heaving as he gasped for breath.

"We can rest here," Philip said, as Edmund slowly slid off his back.

"Are they going to find us?" Edmund asked, peering nervously at the entrance of the cave, fearing that he would hear the distant howl of wolves.

"Not for a while," Philip said, wearily. "It will take them some time to pick up our trail, again, and by then, we will be long gone from here."

"Thank you," Edmund whispered, softly. "For saving me, thank you."

"You're welcome," Philip said.

"You're hurt," Edmund said, suddenly, seeing the various gashes on Philip's flanks.

"It's nothing," Philip said, but Edmund had already shrugged out of his coat and ripped the sleeve off his pajamas.

Darting to the cave entrance, he grabbed a handful of snow and allowed it to melt, soaking the scrap of cloth. Then, he gingerly dabbed at Philip's wounds, washing away as much of the blood as he could.

"I don't think there's much more I can do," he said, apologetically.

"It is enough, for now, thank you," Philip said, as he turned and inspected Edmund's work.

Then, he turned and looked at Edmund, before speaking again in his deep, rough voice.

"Welcome to Narnia, young Prince."


	2. Distant Shores

**Chapter Two: Distant Shores**

After hiding in their riverside cave for a short while, to rest and recover, Edmund and Philip set out again, Philip taking care to hide their tracks whenever possible.

"Where, exactly, are we going, again?" Edmund asked.

"We're going to see Aslan," Philip explained patiently.

"Who's he?" Edmund wondered.

"Aslan is the Great Lion of Narnia," Philip told him. "The one, true King, and the one with the power to defeat the White Witch."

"Would you tell me about her?" Edmund asked, after they'd ridden in silence for several long minutes. "The White Witch, I mean."

"One hundred years ago," Philip began, quietly, as they journeyed along the river's edge, "an evil witch named Jadis began terrorizing innocent Narnians. She used her dark magic to turn anyone who opposed her into stone, and she longs to either rule from or destroy Cair Paravel, the Golden Palace.

"She rules from a fortress of ice and stone, between the two peaks, and has declared herself the Queen of Narnia. None dared to stand against her, then, at least, not openly, and so her influence over Narnia grew, unchecked. At the height of her power, the Eternal Winter started. And Narnia has been frozen ever since."

"But why is that changing now?" Edmund asked. "I mean, the river had thawed earlier, but now it's frozen, again. Why is it doing that?"

"The Eternal Winter is worst when the White Witch is strongest," Philip explained. "When it thaws temporarily, like it did, it means that Aslan has gained some small measure of power."

"So, if the river is frozen, now, does that mean that the Witch has gotten stronger?" Edmund hazarded.

"I'm afraid so," Philip said, sadly.

Disconcerted by all that he'd learned, Edmund lapsed into a thoughtful silence - a state he was rarely ever in. Horse and boy rode swiftly and quietly through the too-still woods, Philip keeping a wary eye out for the predators he knew to be stalking them.

"How does a Horse get the name Philip?" Edmund asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Philip stopped, craning his neck around to eye Edmund with something akin to annoyance.

"Do you always ask so many questions?" he demanded.

"Only when I'm trying very hard not to be scared," Edmund admitted, sheepishly.

"The White Witch of Narnia wants you dead," Philip muttered. "You'd have to be a fool not to be scared."

He started moving again, and Edmund thought his question would go unanswered. Finally, after nearly five minutes of tense silence, Philip spoke again.

"It's a long story," he said, quietly. "But this is not the time or the place to tell it."

They lapsed into a contemplative silence after that, both lost in their own thoughts. Philip's long strides carried them swiftly over the frozen ground. Then, something flashed in the corner of Edmund's eye, drawing him back to the present day.

"Philip, stop!" he cried.

"What now?" the stallion grumbled, hastily skidding to an abrupt stop as Edmund slid off his back into a snowdrift.

"I saw something over here," Edmund called, jogging back the way they'd come. "It was covered in blood."

"That's a Wolf!" Philip snapped, his eyes wheeling in panic as they approached the bloody, furry mass that lay crumpled on the snow.

"He's hurt," Edmund said, wonderingly, touching the stiff fur with a hesitant hand.

As he made contact, the Wolf stirred, opening a weary, pain-filled eye to look at him. Edmund gasped in shock, but didn't move. After a moment, the Wolf closed his eyes again, with a barely audible sigh.

"He's one of the Secret Police, Edmund," Philip said. "He's better off dead to us."

"He needs our help!" Edmund cried, turning to face Philip. "We can't just leave him here."

"I don't see why not," Philip grumbled. "Edmund, his pack tried to kill you. He'll do the same if he gets the chance."

"We have to take him with us," Edmund insisted, stubbornly, acting on an impulse he couldn't even put a name to.

Philip stared at him for a long moment, and then snorted in disgust.

"Fine," he said, shortly. "Get him up here."

"Why are you giving in so easily?" Edmund asked suspiciously.

"Because I don't want to have to explain to Aslan that I let one of the Sons of the prophecy get himself killed while we were arguing," Philip told him. "Now, hurry, before the Secret Police find us."

Edmund nodded, working his arms under the stiff body of the Wolf, staggering as he tried to stand.

"He's hard to hold onto," he said, grunting with the effort of staying on his feet.

Philip sighed in resignation and lowered himself to his knees to lie on the ground. Edmund half-carried, half-dragged the unconscious Wolf over to the horse and slung him over Philip's back.

"Get on," Philip said, abruptly. "You'll hold him on better if you're on my back, too."

"You'll stand up easier if I'm down here," Edmund protested, with the absolute certainty of someone who knew he was right.

Philip didn't even bother to argue this time; he only snorted again and heaved himself to his feet. Once he'd regained his balance, Edmund scrambled up on his back, wrapping one hand around his mane and the other hand in the Wolf's fur. As soon as he was settled, Philip took off again in his ground-devouring canter. It wasn't too long, though, before he was slowing down again.

"What's wrong?" Edmund asked, looking around nervously.

"Nothing is wrong," Philip said. "We're here."

Edmund's careful study of their surroundings turned from fear to amazement as he truly saw Aslan's camp for the first time. All around them were all manner of creatures, talking, laughing, and working. A pair of young Fox kits scampered in front of Philip's hooves, a Cheetah in playful pursuit, barely causing a disturbance for either party. Off in the distance, two men on horseback practiced sword fighting. Edmund thought it strange that he couldn't see their mounts' heads, but quickly passed it over as he continued to take in the sights.

"This is wonderful," he breathed, and Philip chuckled slightly.

"Yes, it is," he said, warmly. "Heads up, Prince. Oreius is coming."

Edmund looked up sharply, his jaw dropping in shock at the sight that approached him. At first glance, it appeared to be a man on a horse, until it became evident that the horse and man were one.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice emerging in a fearful, and embarrassing, squeak.

"Oreius is a Centaur," Philip explained, "and the general of Aslan's army."

_'The fighting men,'_ Edmund thought, as he spared the scene a fleeting look, now understanding what he was seeing.

"Well, what do we have here?" Oreius asked, his booming voice suddenly very painful to hear.

"Guests," Philip said, succinctly. "Edmund Pevensie, Prince of Narnia, and a Wolf."

Edmund detected a note of disgust in Philip's voice at the word wolf, and Oreius turned expressionless eyes on him.

"He's hurt," Edmund said, weakly, as it occurred to him that his good deed might not have been such a good idea. "He needs help."

"And help he shall get," Oreius declared, summoning another Centaur over to his side. "Take the Wolf to Shanza, for healing."

The Centaur nodded, taking the Wolf's burden as though he weighed nothing.

"As for you, Majesty," Oreius said, turning to Edmund. "I'm to bring you to Aslan."

Without warning, Oreius grabbed Edmund around the waist and lifted him to the ground easily. Edmund swallowed hard as he found himself looking up at the Centaur from the ground instead of the comforting height of Philip's back.

"This way," Oreius said, starting off without giving Edmund a chance to answer.

Edmund shot Philip a helpless look, but the stallion swung his head in the direction Oreius had gone.

"He's not as bad as he seems," Philip assured him, "just a little overwhelming. Go."

Having no other recourse, Edmund resignedly trotted after Oreius, who'd stopped in the path to wait for him.

"General Oreius, sir?" Edmund asked, as he struggled to keep up with the Centaur's much longer stride. "What's Aslan like?"

"He's a Lion," Oreius said, chuckling, a sound that surprised Edmund to no end. "What do you think he's like?"

"Terrifying," Edmund admitted, honestly.

"Well, he can be," Oreius said, "but he's nothing to be afraid of."

_'That's easy for you to say,'_ Edmund thought, eyeing Oreius's gigantic, muscular form.

"You've nothing to fear," Oreius continued. "Aslan would sooner cut off his own mane before he ever hurt a child. Especially one as special as you."

"Sir, why is that?" Edmund asked, seizing the opportunity Oreius had given him. "Philip told me about the prophecy, but Aslan can't really expect me, my brother, and my sisters to stop some evil Witch? Can he?" he pleaded.

"That's for Aslan to tell you," Oreius said, as they stopped in front of a beautifully decorated tent. "Here we are."

The next second, the biggest creature Edmund had ever seen stepped out of the tent. The Lion shook his mane, and Edmund could have sworn he smiled at him.

"Welcome, Edmund Pevensie," Aslan intoned.

"Th-thank you," Edmund stammered, unable to think of anything else to say. Aslan smiled once more.

"Walk with me," he commanded, and Edmund fell into step beside him as naturally as if he'd always done so.

"You are wondering why you are here," Aslan said, and Edmund gaped at him in astonishment.

"Truth be told," Aslan continued, before Edmund could speak, "I find myself wondering the same thing. How did you gain access to Narnia, Edmund?"

And so Edmund found himself telling Aslan all about his nighttime trip for a glass of water that had him hiding in the wardrobe to get away from the Professor's housekeeper, and how he stumbled into Narnia.

"The Professor?" Aslan asked, curiously, when he'd finished.

"Professor Kirke," Edmund answered. "He's supposed to be an old friend of our parents, but none of us have ever even seen him."

"Well," Aslan said, "I'm not sure how you are here. It certainly isn't your time to come."

"Maybe it is," Edmund ventured. "How could I have gotten here, otherwise?"

Aslan stared at him for a long moment, before laughing, a great booming sound that startled Edmund back several paces.

"Very clever," he said. "Very well argued, young Prince."

Edmund took those words as an opportunity, and brought up something that had been bothering him for the past several hours.

"Aslan," he ventured, "Why did you call me Prince?"

"Did Philip not tell you about the prophecy?" Aslan asked.

"Well, yes," Edmund said, "but I didn't really understand it."

"In order to truly defeat the White Witch," Aslan told him, "you and your siblings must become Kings and Queens of Narnia, on the thrones of Cair Paravel."

"King?" Edmund whispered, dazzled at the sudden thought. And then he was hit by the mention his brother and sisters.

"Is something wrong?" Aslan asked, noticing Edmund's expression darken considerably.

"It's just," Edmund ventured, hesitantly, "all my life I've had to share with someone. And this is just another thing I have to share. I just wish I had something for myself, for once."

"A perfectly normal feeling," Aslan said, rather than delivering the lecture on selfishness that Edmund had been expecting. "But, Edmund, you must not let such feelings dictate your behavior. The kindest hearts are those who consider others before themselves."

Edmund nodded slowly. "Where's the Wolf?" he asked, changing the subject.

"He is with Shanza, our Healer," Aslan said.

"Can I see him?" Edmund asked, desperately.

"Of course," Aslan said, turning around. "This way."

He led the way to a smaller tent not too far from his own, and a guard at the entrance snapped to attention upon seeing them. At Aslan's gesture, he drew back the flap, allowing Edmund to duck inside. He blinked slowly to adjust to the tent's darkness, and then saw a small, graceful tree-woman bending over a mass of fur.

Hearing him, the Wolf lifted his head and fixed him with an unblinking gaze. Unafraid, Edmund moved further into the tent. Up close, he saw that the Wolf was barely half grown and clearly starving, his ribs showing painfully even through the thick fur that covered his body. The blood was gone from his coat, but the wounds that marked him were ugly and vicious, making Edmund wince in sympathy.

"You," the Wolf rasped, never looking away from him. "You're the one who rescued me. Why?"

Edmund shrugged helplessly. "I really don't know," he admitted. "But I just couldn't leave you lying there."

"Thank you," the Wolf said. "I owe you my life."

"No, I didn't-" Edmund sputtered. _'I didn't really save him just so that he would feel grateful to me, did I?'_ he thought, distressed at the very thought.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, changing the subject to something less uncomfortable.

"Maugrim did," the Wolf replied, looking disgusted. "It's my brother's way of keeping weaklings from entering the service of his beloved Queen."

"Your own brother attacked you?" Edmund asked, astonished.

"Yes," the Wolf said. "And, if they find that I have survived, I will be judged worthy of entering her service."

"You see, Sire?" an angry voice demanded, startling the tent's occupants. "The Wolf will return to his own kind and tell the Witch everything. I say we kill him now, before he gets the chance!"

"No!" Edmund cried, drawing all attention to himself. He stormed outside the tent, to confront Aslan and Oreius. "Aslan, you can't kill him."

"Did you not hear him, Majesty?" Oreius demanded. "He means to return to the Witch!"

"Only as a spy in service of those who cared enough to save my life," the Wolf rasped, as he limped out of the tent. He shot Oreius a dark look as he stood protectively beside Edmund.

"Your name, Wolf?" Aslan asked.

"Bertran," the Wolf replied.

"Edmund," Aslan continued, startling him, "do you take Bertran into your service?"

"Me?" Edmund gasped.

"You did save his life," Aslan said, restating Bertran's earlier words.

"Um, okay," Edmund said, feeling slightly ridiculous.

"I give you my vow, Highness," Bertran said, solemnly, "I will serve you, and no other, until my death."

"You understand," Aslan said, saving Edmund from having to try and think of a reply, "the price if the Witch finds out of her betrayal to you?"

"I cannot betray her if I never served her in the first place," Bertran said, simply.

"Then, go," Aslan said. Bertran looked up at Edmund, who nodded hesitantly, before he trotted off through the camp, towards the woods.

"If you will go with Oreius," Aslan said, breaking into his stunned reverie, "he will start your training."

"Training?" Edmund asked. "You mean, I'm staying here?"

"Only until it is time to retrieve your siblings," Aslan told him. With that, he walked away, leaving Edmund standing with Oreius.

"Are you ready, Majesty?" Oreius asked.

Edmund looked out at the camp, at the creatures depending on him to help save their land and their lives. Rather than feel scared, like he expected, he felt filled with a sense of purpose. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged.

"Yes," he said, softly, "I'm ready."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

The past five years had seen Edmund through many changes, physical and otherwise. He'd grown into a strong, handsome young man, with a deeply ingrained sense of honor, loyalty, and justice. Unfortunately for him, none of that made any difference when he found himself being mocked by his best friend.

"You're slowing down," Philip teased, trotting back to keep pace with Edmund, who was running steadily across the rocky ground.

"Two legs," Edmund retorted shortly, preferring to save his breath for running rather than talking.

Philip just shook his head and slowed down to a walk. Edmund shot him an irritated look.

"Now, that's just insulting," he said. The stallion chuckled but didn't alter his swinging stride.

"Just a hundred yards left," he said, gauging the distance to the rocky outcropping where Oreius awaited them, and Edmund nodded shortly to indicate that he'd heard.

They completed the remaining distance in silence, stopping in unison when they reached the Centaur. Edmund bent double at the waist, breathing deeply.

"Aslan wants to see you," Oreius said without preamble.

"Did he say what about?" Edmund asked, slowly straightening, brushing his long, dark hair away from his face.

"No," Oreius replied. "Just that you needed to be there right away."

"Let's go," Philip said, swinging his head toward his back, indicating that Edmund should get on.

Edmund sprang gracefully onto his back, Philip breaking into a brisk canter as soon as he was settled. A few minutes later, they reached Aslan's camp. Edmund respectfully greeted the various creatures they passed as Philip slowed to a stately walk.

"Morning, Prince," a voice called, from the ground near Philip's hooves. Edmund peered down to see a small red Fox trotting alongside them.

"Morning, Auric," Edmund replied. "How are your kits?"

"Faring well," the Fox replied. "Ah, here you are."

With a brisk nod, the Fox veered away, leaving Edmund and Philip to stand before Aslan's tent. Edmund slid slowly off Philip's back and walked up to the entrance, alone.

"You wanted to see me, Aslan?" Edmund asked, entering the tent and kneeling respectfully before his liege.

"It is time for your brother and sisters to enter Narnia," the Lion told him. "You will go and fetch them."

"How?" Edmund asked, disbelievingly. "I'm five years older than when I left. How am I supposed to explain this to them?"

"Time is relative," Aslan said with a small smile. "When you step through the wardrobe once more, it will be as though no time has passed. No one will ever know you were gone."

"How much time will have passed here in the time it takes me to convince them they need to come with me?" Edmund asked, darkly.

"Time is relative," Aslan repeated, enigmatically. "Everything will work out as it is supposed to. Have faith, Edmund."

"I've gone on nothing but faith since I came here," Edmund muttered, and Aslan chuckled softly.

"Go safely," he said. Edmund nodded quickly before spinning on his heel and exiting the tent.

"Well?" Philip asked, as Edmund rejoined him outside.

"I need to go back to the Lantern Waste," Edmund told him. "It's time to get my siblings."

"Let's go, then," Philip said. At Edmund's incredulous look, he continued.

"Have the last five years taught you nothing?" he snorted. "I'm certainly not going to let you go wandering around the Lantern Waste alone, especially since, knowing you, you're going to be unarmed."

"Well, I certainly can't carry a sword with me back to Professor Kirke's house," Edmund protested.

"Which is why I'm going to be going with you," Philip explained. "The Witch still has a bounty on your head, you know."

"Don't remind me," Edmund muttered, climbing aboard Philip's back.

As they set out toward the Lantern Waste, Edmund couldn't help but think of all that could possibly go wrong to keep them from reaching their destination. The journey of several days passed without any danger, however, and ended all too quickly. All too soon, Philip was stopping by the lit lantern that marked the path to the wardrobe, and Edmund slid reluctantly to the ground.

"I don't want to leave," he admitted, as he looked down the path.

"You'll be back," Philip said, decisively. "You need to do this, Edmund. To save Narnia."

"I know," Edmund said. "I'm going, I'm going."

He started down the path, but shortly stopped and turned to look at the stallion who stood rock still in the Waste, watching him go.

"Watch out for the Pack," Edmund warned him. "Go straight back to Aslan's camp."

"I will be fine," Philip told him, insistently. "Go."

Edmund nodded and started jogging down the path, never looking back. Shortly, he reached the pine trees that marked the entrance to the wardrobe. He conscientiously stamped the snow from his boots before peeling them off and leaving them near the entrance. Stepping onto the wooden floor of the wardrobe, he felt himself slip slightly, and instinctively put his hands out to catch himself. To his shock, his questing hands encountered a rough wooden panel-the back of the wardrobe.

_'Aslan didn't warn me about that,'_ he thought, panicked. _'How am I supposed to get back if the doorway is closed?'_

Then, the more rational part of his brain took over, as he realized that the doorway's appearance must be sporadic, rather than it being there always. And it hit Edmund that, for the first time in five years, he was completely alone. He couldn't even rely on his siblings, as they had no idea what he'd gone through. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped through the double doors of the wardrobe.

Moving cautiously so as not to make any noise, he listened intently for any sounds of the Professor's housekeeper as he made his way to the bathroom.

_'Mrs. Macready,_' he recalled, after a moment. _'Her name is Mrs. Macready, and she's strict, and cruel, and will probably kill me if she catches me out of bed.'_

An eager grin split his face. _'I haven't had this much fun in years.'_

Slipping silently into the bathroom, he checked his appearance in the mirror to assure himself that he had, indeed, been transformed back to the age he'd been when he left. For a few minutes, he could only stare at his reflection, amazed at how young he looked.

_'How young I really am,'_ he corrected himself, silently. _'They won't know that anything's different, and I'm not sure if I can prove to them that I truly have changed. At least not in time.'_

With those thoughts topmost in his mind, he slipped out of the bathroom and down the hall, until he reached the bedroom he shared with Peter. He looked back once more at the darkened hallway, before sliding back into bed and letting sleep overtake him.


	3. There

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. **

**Chapter Three: There…**

The next morning, Edmund awoke to see Peter looking at him from his bed.

"Was it worth it?" he asked, cryptically.

"Was what worth it?" Edmund asked, grumpily, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Five years in Narnia had changed a lot in him, but one thing remained the same as when he'd left; he still wasn't, and probably would never be, a morning person.

"Your glass of water," Peter said impatiently, as though he expected Edmund to understand instantly what he was talking about. "Was it worth nearly getting caught by the Macready?"

_'What glass of water?'_ Edmund thought, puzzled, and then he remembered.

"Oh, that glass of water!" he blurted, as the memory of his flight into Narnia came back to him.

"Yes, that glass of water," Peter said, shaking his head. Clearly, he thought Edmund was an idiot.

"I'm going to go to breakfast," Edmund said, rather than answering.

Grabbing the first things he touched in the closet, he pulled the itchy wool clothes on, mourning the loss of his comfortable jerkin and riding leathers.

_'I'll be back in Narnia soon enough,' _he comforted himself. _'I just have to convince Peter, Susan, and Lucy to come with me.'_

Grumbling something under his breath about inconsiderate brothers, Peter joined him, and together they walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Both were moving rather sluggishly, until they heard a loud crash. Sprinting down the hallway, they found Lucy standing in front of an empty pedestal, the bust that once rested on top now lying in pieces on the floor.

"Lucy, are you hurt?" Peter asked, immediately, but Lucy's answer was cut off by Mrs. Macready rushing over to them.

"What happened?" she exclaimed. Then, seeing the mess on the floor, she turned her stony gaze on the children.

"Who did this?" she demanded, shrilly. "Who was touching the historical artifacts?"

"It's my fault," Edmund said, instantly, the lie slipping out easily as he took in the stricken look on Lucy's face.

"What did I say about touching the historical artifacts?" Macready demanded, whirling on him.

"I forgot," Edmund lied, noting with interest how purple Mrs. Macready was becoming. _'If she's not careful, she's going to give herself an aneurysm,'_ he thought.

"Well, let's see how well you remember the rules without breakfast," she said, nastily as she grabbed his arm in a painful grip.

She dragged him back down the hall, passing Susan, who flattened herself against the wall to avoid getting run over. As he was being escorted back to his room, he heard Susan's voice floating back, "What happened?"

Reaching the closed door of his and Peter's room, Mrs. Macready wrenched the door open and shoved him inside.

"You can just sit here and think about what you've done," she snapped, slamming the door behind her.

_'I just knew I was going to get on her bad side,'_ he thought. _'Although, I'm not convinced she actually has a good side.'_

A couple hours later, Peter came back, stopping in the doorway to stare at the now-spotless room.

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" he asked, shutting the door.

"I was bored," Edmund said, shrugging carelessly.

"_And_ you took Lucy's punishment for her," Peter reminded him. "I think there's something in the water."

"You were about to do the same thing," Edmund told him. "I just beat you to it."

"So what if I was?" Peter countered.

Then, grinning, he reached into his pocket and pulled a crumpled napkin out. He tossed it to Edmund, who unwrapped it to discover a cold biscuit and a single sausage.

"It's all I could sneak away," he said, apologetically. "The Macready was watching us like a hawk, probably expecting us to try and sneak you food."

"Thanks," Edmund mumbled, his mouth full of biscuit as his stomach started to rumble.

Suddenly, the door started to creak open, and Edmund swallowed his mouthful of biscuit hastily as Peter snatched the sausage and shoved it and the napkin in his pocket. But, it was only Lucy and Susan, who snuck quietly in and shut the door behind them. They each pulled rumpled napkins out of their pockets, and Edmund and Peter grinned in relief.

"We thought you might be hungry," Susan explained, as they gave him the filched food, and Peter gave him back the sausage.

"Where'd you get so much?" Edmund asked, surprised at the contents of the napkins.

"Cook heard the Macready yelling at you," Lucy said, grinning. "I don't think Cook likes the Macready too much."

"I don't think anyone likes the Macready very much," Peter added.

"The Professor must, or he wouldn't have hired her," Susan pointed out, sensibly.

"I wanna play something," Lucy said, as Edmund was hastily finishing off his breakfast.

"Play what?" Peter asked. "It's pouring outside."

"So, we'll do something inside," Susan suggested.

"We could explore the house again," Edmund spoke up through a mouthful of biscuit, seeing his chance to get his siblings into the wardrobe and, hopefully, into Narnia.

"We did that yesterday, after dinner," Susan pointed out. Let's play a game. A word game."

Fifteen minutes later, Susan seemed to be the only one still interested in the game.

"Gastrovascular," she said, looking up from the dictionary propped on her lap. "Come on, Peter."

"Is it Latin?" Peter hazarded.

"Yes," Susan encouraged.

"Is it Latin for 'worst game ever invented'?" Edmund muttered. Susan's quick glare, and Peter's appreciative - if hastily muffled - snort of laughter, told him he hadn't been as quiet as he'd hoped.

"Let's play Hide and Seek," Lucy suggested.

"But, we're already having so much fun," Peter muttered sarcastically, and this time Susan's disapproving look was aimed at him.

Edmund snickered softly as Peter leaned against the wall and, resignedly, started counting to one hundred. Jumping to his feet, he dashed out of the room, Susan and Lucy close behind. Susan found the first hiding place, in an old chest.

"Fifty-eight, fifty-nine." Peter's voice floated down the hallway as Edmund ducked behind a long curtain.

"Can I hide here with you?" Lucy whispered eagerly, and Edmund shook his head.

"That's not how you play," he hissed. "You have to find your own spot."

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him teasingly, and darted down the hallway, turning doorknobs as she went.

"Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven."

Edmund looked down, making sure the floor-length curtain covered his shoes all the way, and scooted back against the wall even more, to make it less obvious that he was hiding there.

_'It's not so hard, remembering what life back here was like,'_ he thought. _'I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to learn to appreciate it.'_

"I'm back, I'm back!"

Startled out of his reverie, Edmund peeked out of the curtain to see Lucy racing down the hall.

"I'm back, I'm back! It's alright!" she cried, skidding to a stop in front of him.

"Shh, he's coming," Edmund hissed.

"You know, I'm not sure if you two have quite gotten the idea of this game!" Peter chuckled, as he saw them.

"Does this mean I've won?" Susan asked, joining them.

"But, weren't you all looking for me?" Lucy asked, puzzled.

"That's the point, Lu," Edmund said. "That's why it's called hide and seek."

"But I've been gone hours," Lucy protested.

"What are you talking about?" Susan asked.

"I went to hide in this old wardrobe in the spare room down here," Lucy said, excitedly, as she led them down the hall. "Only, I wound up in this beautiful wood all covered in snow."

_'Narnia!'_' Edmund thought, excitedly. _'This is my chance!'_

"I met this faun named Mr. Tumnus, and he gave me tea and biscuits, and he played me the most beautiful lullaby on his pipe," Lucy chattered. "And then he said he had to turn me over to the White Witch, because it was the law, but he broke the law and helped me escape back here."

At the mention of the White Witch, Edmund felt his insides turn to ice. But, he had no time to think about how close his sister had come to danger as they had arrived at the spare room. Edmund clambered into the wardrobe, followed by Susan. He reached eagerly for the back, and felt a sharp pang of disappointment when his fingers encountered the back panel.

"The only wood here is the back of the wardrobe," Susan said, as she climbed out.

"One game at a time, Lu," Peter said. "We don't all have your imagination.

"But I wasn't imagining!" Lucy exclaimed.

"That's enough, Lucy," Susan said, crossly.

"I'm not lying!" Lucy cried, perilously close to tears. "I wouldn't lie about this!"

"Susan's right, Lu," Peter said. "That's enough."

He and Susan walked out, leaving the youngest Pevensie children alone together.

"I believe you, Lu," Edmund said, solemnly.

"You do?" Lucy said, looking at him in amazement. "You don't think I'm lying?" she pressed, looking doubtfully after Peter and Susan.

"Yes," Edmund said. "And they will, too, eventually."

"But, why?" Lucy asked, insistently, and Edmund realized that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She was waiting for him to tease her, or make some hurtful comment just to see her cry, and the reminder of how he'd once been made him feel sick.

"Lu," he said, hesitantly, wondering if she'd even believe him. "Lu, I've been to Narnia."

When she only looked at him, doubtfully, he pressed on.

"I was there for years," he told her. "And I met Fauns like Mr. Tumnus, Dryads, and Naiads, and Talking Beasts-"

He trailed off when he noticed tears glistening in the corners of Lucy's eyes.

"Lu, what's wrong?" he asked, hesitantly.

"You don't have to make fun," she said, sniffing back tears.

"I'm not making fun," Edmund insisted, but Lucy had already whirled around and run out of the room. "Lucy!"

**XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

Later that night, Edmund found himself getting up for a glass of water and a trip to the bathroom.

_'Déjà vu,'_ he thought wryly, when he noticed a light bobbing down the hall.

_'Who is that?_' he thought, as he stealthily crept down the hall after it.

When he got close enough, he realized that it was Lucy. She made her way down to the room with the wardrobe, entering silently. Edmund followed her, just in time to see light spilling out of the wardrobe as she disappeared inside. For a few seconds, Edmund debated following her in alone, as opposed to going for Peter and Susan.

_'I don't have the time,'_ he realized, moments later. _'Lucy came too close to the White Witch last time she was alone in Narnia. If I don't go after her now, the doorway could close before I got back with Peter and Susan, and she'd be lost in there.'_

His mind made up, Edmund dashed across the room and into the wardrobe. His momentum was so great that he managed to trip over the boots he'd left so considerately by the entrance, getting a face full of snow in the process.

_'At least it didn't close before I got here,'_ he thought, relieved, as he picked himself up off the frozen ground and shoved his feet into the boots.

"Lucy!" he called out, as he made his way down the path toward the Lantern Waste. "Lucy, where are you?"

_'Where could she have gone?'_ he thought, worriedly. _'She was just ahead of me; she couldn't have disappeared that quickly.'_

The sudden sound of ringing bells suddenly broke into his thoughts, and he was barely able to leap out of the way of a fast-paced sledge racing across the snow. As it passed him, the sledge slowed, and then stopped. A short figure climbed out, and, recognizing a Black Dwarf, Edmund started running in the other direction. He didn't make it very far before the Dwarf's whip wound its way around his legs, bringing him crashing to the snow.

_'He's one of the Witch's followers,_' Edmund realized, panicked, as the Dwarf advanced on him.

"Leave me alone!" he cried, instinctively, as the Dwarf put his dagger against Edmund's throat.

"What now, Ginarrbrik?" a bored voice asked.

To Edmund's horror, the White Witch, herself, climbed out of the sledge. But, although she looked straight at him, she didn't seem to recognize him as the human her wolves had hunted for five years. That, Edmund realized, could work in his favor. All he had to do was play dumb, and not say anything to get himself killed.

_'I just can't lie to her,'_ he thought. _'At least, not outright. She'll know if I am.'_

"Make him let me go!" he yelled, indignantly.

"How dare you address the Queen of Narnia?" Ginarrbrik growled, his face growing purple with rage.

"I didn't know!" Edmund insisted.

"Well, you'll know better, hereafter," Ginarrbrik threatened, waving the dagger menacingly.

"Wait," the Witch said, and the Dwarf froze mid-gesture, not so much as even twitching a muscle. Edmund would have laughed if he hadn't feared for his life.

"Who are you?" the Witch asked, peering down at him. "Are you a beardless Dwarf?"

"No, your Majesty," Edmund replied, hating himself for giving her the title, but not daring to address her any other way. "I'm a human."

"A Son of Adam," the Witch mused, her eyes lighting up with a feral glee. "Tell me, Son of Adam, what is your name?"

"Edmund, your Majesty."

"And, tell me, Edmund," the Witch continued, "who is this Lucy that I heard you calling out for?"

_'Heard me - by the Lion, I'm a blessed fool!' _Edmund cursed himself, soundly, while he tried to keep a straight face.

"Oh, her?" he asked, affecting a bored tone. "She's just my sister. She's no one."

"Surely not, next to you," the Witch said. "You look cold, Edmund. Come, sit with me."

Quickly becoming resigned to the idea that she wasn't just going to tire of him and leave, Edmund complied. He felt a shudder of disgust, which he quickly repressed, run through him when the Witch pulled him close and draped her cloak around his shoulders.

"How would you like something hot to drink?" the Witch offered.

Without waiting for a reply, she pulled a small cordial out of the folds of her cloak, and let a single drop of diamond-bright liquid fall onto the snow. Ginarrbrik bent down and picked a beautiful crystal goblet up off the ground. It was filled to the brim with a steaming chocolate drink, and Edmund feared having to drink from it.

_'Who knows what will come of accepting anything the Witch gives me?_' he thought. But, to keep his cover, he accepted the goblet, anyway, and pretended to take a sip.

"A small bit of magic," the Witch said, "but useful in its way. Edmund, do you have any other siblings?"

Edmund looked up at her, startled, and his mind raced.

"Y-yes," he stammered, nervously. "Why do you ask?"

"I should very much like to meet them," the Witch said, smiling at him.

At her words, Edmund felt a cold more piercing than that of winter come over him.

_'She can't touch them!' _he thought, panicked. _'I have to protect them!'_

"Why?" he asked, a belligerent tone coming easily to him. "They're nothing special."

"I long for children, Edmund," the Witch said, "but have none of my own. You, however, are just the kind of little boy I could see adopting as my own. A prince of Narnia, someday a King."

"A King, me?" Edmund asked, faking the wonder he'd felt when he'd heard the same words from Aslan five years ago.

Privately, he thought the Witch to be as good an actor as he was; the only difference was that he knew she was lying.

"Yes, and a King need servants," the Witch continued. "That is why you must bring your siblings to meet me."

"And then what?" Edmund reluctantly asked, pretending at the eagerness he imagined he'd have felt had she been the first person he had encountered in Narnia.

_'I can't believe I used to be that shallow, that cruel,' _he thought. _'The person I was probably would have traded Peter, Susan, and Lucy over to the Witch for a piece of candy, let alone the chance to be King and rule over them.'_

"Do you see that castle between the two mountains?" the Witch asked, pointing at her ice palace in the distance. "That is my home. And when you bring them to Narnia, you will simply think of an excuse to get them there. I'm sure a clever boy like you can do that, can't you?"

Wordlessly, Edmund nodded, no longer trusting himself to speak.

_'I said that I can,'_ he reassured himself, _'not that I will. That wasn't a lie, precisely.'_

The Witch smiled, delighted.

"Wonderful," she said, as Edmund was finally able to climb out of the sledge. "I'll be seeing you soon, my dear boy."

A flick of Ginarrbrik's whip sent the reindeer racing off again, and Edmund was left standing alone, able to finally give into the terror penetrating his very marrow.

"Edmund!"

Lucy's bright voice coming from out of nowhere startled him, and he whirled to face his happily-grinning little sister.

"You really were telling the truth!" she exclaimed. "Isn't Narnia wonderful?"

"Where have you been?" Edmund asked, his voice rasping painfully as he tried to speak around the lump of fear in his throat.

"I've been with Mr. Tumnus," Lucy explained, not noticing his fear. "Oh, Edmund, you simply must meet him! I told him what you said, and he said he'd heard of you."

"We need to go," Edmund told her.

He grabbed her arm, propelling her down the path towards the wardrobe. The wind howling behind them only had him quickening his steps. When they were finally through the wardrobe, and in the spare room, Edmund allowed himself to relax.

"Edmund, we have to tell Susan and Peter!" Lucy said, excitedly. "They'll have to believe us, if we both tell them."

"Lucy," Edmund said, surprising even himself with how rough his voice sounded, "I want you to promise me that you won't go back to Narnia alone."

"Why?" Lucy asked, perplexed. "I'm perfectly safe with Mr. Tumnus."

_'The same Tumnus who nearly turned you over to the Witch?'_ Edmund thought, angrily.

"No, Lucy," he snapped. "It's not safe. And I don't want you going there again; not without me, or Peter, or Susan along, understand? Your word, Lucy," he insisted, when she remained quiet for too long.

"You have it, Edmund," she said, sounding hurt.

"I'm not angry, Lu," Edmund said, wearily. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I promise," Lucy repeated. "Now can we go tell Peter and Susan?"

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

"You were dreaming, Lu," Peter said, yawning sleepily. "Go back to bed."

"I was not!" Lucy insisted, stubbornly.

"What's going on?" Susan asked, walking into the room, followed by Edmund.

"I went to Narnia," Lucy said. "And Edmund went with me!"

"It's true," Edmund spoke up.

"You saw the faun?" Peter asked, skeptically.

"Well, no," Edmund admitted, reluctantly.

"Just stop it, both of you!" Susan snapped. "Lucy, you're far too old for such games."

"And, Edmund, you shouldn't encourage her like that," Peter added, as his younger siblings gaped at him in astonishment.

"I'm not lying!" Lucy cried, suddenly, her eyes filling with tears. "Narnia is real!"

She bolted out of the room, crying, as Peter rounded on Edmund.

"Now look what you've done!" he snapped, furiously.

"What I've done!" Edmund exclaimed.

"You couldn't just leave well enough alone, could you?" Susan asked, before going after Lucy.

"Peter-" Edmund protested, but his brother cut him off, angrily.

"Lucy hasn't been right since we came here, and you have to go and play cruel tricks on her," he said. "I expected better, even from you."

He stormed out, leaving Edmund staring after him in amazement, the pain from Peter's words blooming in his chest.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund ran out of the bedroom a few moments after his older siblings had stormed out after Lucy, and came into the hallway in time to see Mrs. Macready leading Lucy off toward the kitchen, and Peter and Susan following the Professor into his study.

Quickly making up his mind, he dashed after Lucy and the Professor's housekeeper, and when he emerged in the kitchen, skidding to a stop, Mrs. Macready simply gave him a long look before taking a third mug out of the cupboard. Lucy shot him a tremulous smile, a grateful look on her face, and Edmund sat down beside her, squeezing her hand gently in his.

"They don't really mean it," he said, softly, nodding back in the direction of the Professor's study.

"Why don't Peter and Susan believe us?" Lucy asked, plaintively, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"They just – they can't," he told her, after considering the best way to answer. "Not without going there, themselves."

"But-" Lucy protested, and then she cut herself off when Mrs. Macready placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa in front of them.

Lapsing into silence, the siblings sipped their cocoa with single-minded determination, until their mugs were empty. When Lucy spoke again, her voice was filled with longing.

"Are you sure I can't go back?" she asked.

"It won't be forever," Edmund reassured her. "We'll go back, all of us. But it's too dangerous for you alone."

"You went," Lucy pointed out, and Edmund stared into his empty mug, pensively.

"I wouldn't give up my time there for anything in the world," he said, softly.

"Will you tell me about it?" Lucy asked him.

Edmund forced a smile on his face, banishing the shadows from his eyes.

"Soon," he promised her. "I'll tell you, soon."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

In the Professor's study, Peter and Susan fidgeted under the intense scrutiny of the older man.

"You seem to have upset the delicate internal balance of my housekeeper," he remarked, mildly, as he lit his pipe.

"We're sorry, sir," Peter said. "You see, it's our sister, Lucy."

"The weeping girl?" the Professor asked.

"Yes, sir," Susan replied. "She's upset."

"Hence the weeping," the Professor commented.

"We can handle it," Peter insisted, grabbing Susan's arm to go.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," the Professor remarked, so calmly that Peter had a hard time telling if he was being sarcastic. "But, indulge an old man and tell me why she's so upset."

"Well," Susan said, reluctantly, "she thinks she's found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe."

"What did you say?" the Professor demanded, suddenly looking at them intensely.

"In the upstairs wardrobe," Peter said. "Lucy says she found a forest. She called it Narnia."

"What was it like?" the Professor asked, earnestly.

"Like talking to a lunatic," Susan said, dryly.

"No, not her," the Professor said, impatiently. "What was Narnia like?"

"You - you're not saying you believe her?" Peter demanded incredulously.

"Well, don't you?" the Professor asked, genuine surprise in his voice.

"Of course not," Susan said, immediately. "I mean, logically, it's impossible."

"Edmund even said he'd seen it," Peter told him, "and he never tells the truth."

"Including about breaking priceless antiques?" the Professor asked, shrewdly, and Peter wondered exactly how much he knew about the morning's adventures.

"This is strange for Lucy, though," Susan mused. "She usually never lies."

"Well, then," the Professor said. "You have one who never lies, and one who always lies, yet they both have the same story. Logically, either they've come up with a fantastically elaborate story to trick you both with, or they're both telling the truth."

"So, you're saying that we should just believe Lucy?" Peter asked.

"You're a family, aren't you?" the Professor asked, exasperatedly. "It's about time you started acting like one!"

**A/N2: I know, not a very exciting way to end a chapter, but I didn't want to cram too much in all at once. I swear, these things seem to grow by themselves. **


	4. And Back Again

**Author's Note: You guys are awesome, with all your reviews. I was grinning ear to ear when I read them.**

**Chapter Four: …And Back Again**

Edmund was awakened bright and early the next morning by Peter eagerly pulling at his arms, trying to get him out of bed.

"Come on, Ed," he wheedled, and Edmund swatted at Peter's hands.

"Give over," he mumbled, sleepily, burrowing under his blankets as he experienced an uncanny sense of déjà vu.

Before he caught a glimpse of the room beyond his warm blankets, he could have sworn he was back in Narnia, with Khyldaer urging him up for their morning workout.

"Come on," Peter repeated, still tugging at Edmund's arms. "Get out of bed, layabout."

"Who are you calling a layabout?" Edmund grumbled, as Peter finally goaded him into emerging from his warm nest of blankets.

Lucy, who'd crawled into bed with him about three in the morning after a particularly bad nightmare, snuggled into the depression he'd left behind and sleepily pulled the blankets over her head, completely obscuring her from view. Edmund smiled fondly down at her, and then turned back to Peter.

"I'm up," he informed him, flatly. "Why am I up?"

"You know that old suit of armor we saw in the Professor's study up on the third floor?" Peter asked him, a mischievous tone in his voice.

"Yeah," Edmund said, cautiously. "What of it?"

"How would you like to see if we can take it apart?" Peter asked him.

A slow smile spread over Edmund's face, answered by an equal grin on Peter's.

"Race you to the room," Edmund challenged.

At the sound of his voice, Lucy poked her head out from under the blankets, blinking sleepily as she unsuccessfully tried to brush her flyaway hair away from her eyes.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"We're going to go dismantle that old suit of armor upstairs," Edmund told her.

"I want to come," Lucy said. Looking over at Peter, she added, plaintively, "Can I?"

"Of course," Peter said, sounding confused as why she would even ask.

"Go get dressed," Edmund told her, and Lucy dashed out of the room, feet pounding on the hardwood floor as she ran down to the room she shared with Susan.

She was back in record time, and the three of them snuck out of the boys' room and up the stairs to the third floor. In the Professor's study, the suit of armor sat beside the window, gleaming softly in the early morning light.

"Where do we start?" Peter asked, as they slowly approached the suit of armor. "It's not like we have any tools."

"We don't need tools," Edmund said, confidently, speaking from long experience.

But, as he surveyed the armor, he began to change his mind. This bulky hunk of metal was nothing like the light Narnian armor he was used to; it all seemed to be one piece, rather than several, and Edmund had a hard time finding the joints he knew had to be there.

"Maybe we should start with the hands," Lucy suggested, tapping the gauntlets gently and getting a hollow knocking sound in return.

"No, we should start with the pieces on the legs," Peter argued.

"If we start with the legs it's all going to fall over on us," Edmund pointed out, sensibly.

"What are you doing?"

At the furious whisper coming from behind them, the children whirled around in horror, expecting to find the Macready standing in the doorway, waiting to take strips out of their hides. And they breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw that it was only Susan standing there.

"What are you doing?" she repeated, incredulously, as she stared at them, taking in their guilty expressions when they thought they were in trouble.

"We're taking the suit of armor apart," Peter told her.

"Why?" Susan demanded, looking around the room and at them in disbelief. "It's messy, it's destructive-"

"It's fun," Edmund told her, giving her a charming smile. "You could help us."

"Please?" Lucy wheedled, when Susan looked indecisively back toward the hallway.

She looked back at her siblings, who all had adopted the same pleaded expressions on their faces, and then she sighed in defeat, giving them a resigned smile.

"We should start by taking the head off," she told them, coming further into the room as she shut the door quietly behind her.

Edmund nodded in agreement as he started slowly prowling around the suit of armor, trying to find the weak spots or any of the joints. Peter, Susan, and Lucy eagerly joined him in searching every inch for places to take the suit apart.

"Ha!" he crowed, triumphantly, a few minutes later, when he located the small pins holding the helm in place, securing it to the rest of the suit. "Here, Peter, hold it steady."

Peter held the helm from moving as Edmund slowly eased the pins out, wincing every time they made the tiniest squeak. When he'd gotten all the pins out, he handed them to Susan, who carefully laid them down on the floor, where no one was likely to kick them and lose them. She did the same with the helm as Peter handed it to her. They took the rest of the suit apart quickly after that, managing not to make very much noise and setting the various pieces where Susan indicated around the room, so they could more easily reassemble the suit when they were done.

"You take all the fun out of having fun," Peter grumbled good-naturedly, his grin taking any sting out of his words, and Susan simply shook her head at him.

"The point is to have fun," she pointed out. "Not to get caught at something by the Macready and spend the rest of our time here under lock and key because we upset her."

"Su's right," Edmund spoke up. "Besides, now that we know how it came apart, it shouldn't be that hard to put it back together."

"I can't see," Lucy spoke up, suddenly, and they turned around to see her with the helm resting on her shoulders.

Fighting back a grin, Edmund lifted the helm off her shoulders until the eye slit was level with Lucy's eyes. She replaced his hands with her own, and turned slowly around the room, peering at everything through the thin slit.

"It's so hard to see everything," she marveled. "I can only see straight ahead of me."

"But your head's protected in case anyone hits you," Peter told her, and then Lucy yelped in surprise when her older brother gently rapped his knuckles against the helm, creating a tinny ringing sound.

"My ears!" Lucy protested, pulling the helm off her head, but she was laughing.

Peter wrapped a companionable arm around her shoulders as he put the helm over his own head. It fit him much better, and looking at him, it was easy to imagine him as a strong, proud warrior of old.

Edmund pulled the gauntlets over his hands, flexing his fingers and hearing the metal clink softly as the gloves moved with him. Carefully, he lifted the spear that the suit of armor had been supporting from the floor where they'd laid it, and hefted it in his arms, feeling unbalanced from the weight that was so different from a sword.

"You and Peter look like you're ready to go charging into battle," Susan teased, and then everyone whirled around at the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

To their horror, the door creaked open, slowly, and then one of the maids poked her head into the room. Looking unsurprised at the sight of the suit of armor lying in pieces all over the floor, she nodded back at the hallway, toward the stairs.

"Mrs. Macready is going to be coming up, soon," she warned them. "You'll want to have this back together before she fetches you for breakfast."

Without another word, she left the room, shutting the door behind her, and Susan and Peter immediately leapt into action, gathering the pieces of the suit and starting to hastily reassemble them.

Pulling the gauntlets off his arms, Edmund started putting together the chest and back plates, sliding the pins back into their slots with a bit of difficulty. When he was done, he and Peter lifted the torso onto the legs, and Peter held it steady as he and Susan started replacing the pins.

Lucy, meanwhile, had cracked the door open slightly as a lookout, and she suddenly turned back and hissed at them, "Hurry up! She's coming!"

Edmund hastily grabbed the arms from the floor, holding them in position as Peter shoved the pins back in, and Susan carefully balanced the helm back on the suit's shoulders. They put the last pins in, and scrambled away from the suit as the footsteps out in the hallway grew louder and louder. Peter reached out and grabbed Lucy, pulling her over to the rest of them, and when Mrs. Macready opened the door, the four of them were standing in front of the suit of armor, looking at it.

"What do you children think you're doing?" she demanded, and Peter turned a charming smile on the older woman.

"We're admiring the suit of armor," he told her, and Mrs. Macready frowned, suspiciously.

"Breakfast," she told them, finally, holding the door open, pointedly, for the children to precede her out of the room.

Right before they left, Lucy turned back toward the suit, and then gasped in amazement.

"Oh, look," she exclaimed. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Edmund turned around to see what she was looking at, and saw that the rain had stopped for the first time since they'd arrived out in the country. The sun had broken through the heavy clouds, sending a beam of light down through the window of the Professor's study, the light scattering as it hit the glass and illuminating the dust motes as they swirled slowly around the room.

"It is," Edmund said, softly, as he looked at the sun. "It's beautiful."

As they went downstairs to eat breakfast, Edmund slipped away from his siblings, heading for the front door. Easing the door shut behind him, he went around to the side of the house, where the sun had created a dappling pattern on the grass as it filtered through the leaves of the trees.

He hunted around the trees until he found a sturdy branch that had to have been taken down during the storm of the previous day. The branch was smooth to the touch when he picked it up, and some of the outer bark had peeled away, leaving the tip a soft white color that gleamed when the sunlight struck it. It wasn't his sword that he usually used when he did his morning ritual, but it was close enough, and it was, after all, the intent that counted.

He started going slowly through the graceful movements of the simple sword dance that Orieus had taught him, letting his mind empty of all thoughts and worries. As he moved, he felt a sense of peace settle over him and he lost himself in the intricate movements. By the time he finished the sword dance, the sun had risen high in the sky and he had to shield his eyes from the harsh glare.

Laying the branch down at the base of the tree, he sent a silent thanks to the tree's resting spirit and started back to the Professor's house. He met Lucy on the way, who'd followed him and had been watching his ritual.

"That was lovely, Edmund," she said, admiringly. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

"Sure," Edmund said, and then he laughed when Lucy's stomach rumbled with hunger.

"After breakfast," he promised her, slinging an arm around her shoulder and leading her back to the house.

**XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

"Peter winds up, poised to take yet another wicket!"

Edmund rolled his eyes at his brother's theatrics, then grabbed for his leg when the ball smacked him.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing the sore spot.

"Whoops," Peter said, not even bothering to hide his wide grin. "Wake up, Dolly Daydream."

Edmund grinned back at his brother. He knew he shouldn't be out in the Professor's yard, playing cricket with his siblings. He knew he had a duty to try and get them into Narnia as soon as possible. But, he couldn't help stalling.

Once they found their way back into Narnia, there would be no more time for playing games and being silly. They would have to focus on winning the war against the White Witch, and the time for being simply children would be quickly coming to an end. And even though he couldn't help feeling selfish, Edmund wanted to spend as much time with his brother and sisters as he could, without the threat of the Witch hanging over them.

"Are you ready, then?" Peter asked, drawing him back to the game.

"Are you?" Edmund asked, a challenging note in his voice.

He thumped his bat against the ground a couple of times, and Peter tossed the ball at him. He swung, as hard as he could, and watched with pride as it connected. The pride quickly turned to horror when the ball crashed through an upstairs window. Everyone froze as they heard the distant sound of breaking glass, and then they ran like mad for the front door.

"I guess we didn't put it back together as well as we thought," Lucy said, in a small voice.

They looked at the broken glass littering the floor of the Professor's study with dismay. A suit of armor, the very same one they'd tried to disassemble earlier, lay on the ground nearby, the ball resting mockingly in a dent in the chest plate.

"Well done, Ed!" Peter said, sarcastically.

"You bowled it!" Edmund exclaimed, defensively.

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but no sound ever came out, as they heard a heavy footfall coming down the hallway. The children spun around, staring horrified at the closed door.

"The Macready!" Susan squeaked, going pale.

"Run!" Peter hissed, shoving them at the door.

They sprinted down the hallway, away from the scene of their crime. Unfortunately, Mrs. Macready's footsteps didn't fade with distance, and they found themselves dashing up the stairs and into the first unlocked room they could find, the spare room.

"Come on!" Edmund urged, throwing wide the wardrobe door.

"You've got to be joking," Susan said, flatly. "We'll all never fit."

"It's either out there, or in here," Edmund insisted, giving the door, and the hallway beyond, a significant look.

"Go!" Peter snapped, once again pushing everyone forward. They crowded inside the wardrobe, shutting the door behind them.

"Get back!" Susan hissed, painfully, when someone stepped on her foot "Get off my foot."

"I'm not on your foot," Edmund said, defensively, when she pushed at him.

"Ouch," Peter muttered, when Edmund stumbled backward, jamming an elbow into his ribs.

Peter took one more step backwards, trying to find a clear space, and yelped as he tripped and fell into the snow. Susan fell on top of him a moment later, swallowing her startled cry in amazement.

"Impossible," she breathed, scrambling to her feet.

"Don't worry," Lucy piped up cheerfully as Susan and Peter stared around them in shock and astonishment. "I'm sure it's just your imagination."

"I don't suppose saying 'we're sorry' would quite cover it?" Peter asked, sheepishly.

"No, it wouldn't," Lucy said, solemnly, pouting. Another wave of guilt swamped her oldest siblings. Then, she grinned mischievously.

"But this might!" she cried, winging a snowball at Peter.

It hit him square in the face, leaving him sputtering. Everyone stood stock-still, waiting for his reaction, and then he started laughing. Scooping up a handful of snow, he launched it at Lucy, who ducked out of the way. Susan wound up getting a face full of snow as a result.

"I - I," she gasped, shocked by the sudden cold. "I'll get you for that, Peter!"

The snowballs started flying, then, and Edmund joined in for a few seconds, but the lightheartedness he'd felt during the cricket game had vanished when they had stepped through the wardrobe, to be replaced by an uneasy sense of being watched.

_'The world won't end if I just enjoy myself for a few seconds,' _he thought, frustrated. _'So, why can't I just let go?'_

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the snowball fight, in time to see Peter dramatically "dying", snow splattered all over the front of his shirt. Unfortunately, that meant that the snowball that Susan had just thrown in his direction sailed over his prone body, hitting Edmund on the shoulder, instead.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his arm.

"You should learn to duck," Peter teased him.

"Or, you could just stop hitting me with things," Edmund muttered, sensing he was ruining their high-spirited mood with his melancholy.

_'I'm back in Narnia, which is what I've wanted since I left Philip,'_ he thought, angry with himself. _'What's wrong with me?'_

Unfortunately, he couldn't get rid of the impending sense of doom that had haunted him ever since he'd stepped through the wardrobe.

"Maybe we should go back," Susan said, quietly.

"We should look around, first," Edmund protested, automatically, not willing to let any of his siblings leave now that he had gotten them into Narnia, no matter what he felt like.

"I think Lucy should decide," Peter said.

"I want you all to meet Mr. Tumnus!" Lucy said, excitedly.

"Well, Mr. Tumnus it is, then," Peter said.

"But we can't go hiking through the snow dressed like this!" Susan protested, gesturing to the summertime play clothes they'd all put on that morning.

"I don't think the Professor will mind if we borrow some of these, do you?" Peter asked, his voice muffled by the thick fur coats he held in his arms. "After all, if you think about it logically, we're not even taking them out of the wardrobe."

He handed a silver-gray coat to Edmund, who winced. "That's a girl's coat," he protested.

"I know," Peter said, leaving him no choice but to take it or let it fall to the ground.

Grudgingly, Edmund slipped the coat on, trying not to feel like he was wearing someone's pelt. As everyone else was walking away, he realized that neither Peter nor Susan had apologized to him for not believing that he, too, had seen Narnia. Their dismissive forgetfulness hurt him more than he cared to acknowledge.

They set out to Tumnus's house, the others laughing and talking the whole way. They even laughed when Peter slipped and fell down a hill. Edmund could barely work up a weak smile; he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong.

"And we'll have toast, and tea, and lots and lots of-" Lucy's voice trailed off in horror as the four of them took in the door hanging off its hinges.

"Lu-" Peter began.

Lucy gasped, wordlessly, and bolted toward the house.

"LUCY!" Peter and Edmund yelled in unison. They sprinted forward to find Lucy standing just inside the door, staring at the ruins of the house with tears in her eyes.

"Who would do something like this?" she asked, softly.

Edmund started further into the house, drawing back in surprise when glass crunched under his foot. Bending, he picked a broken picture frame off the floor, careful not to slice a finger off on the sharp glass. A picture of a stately Faun stared back at him.

"That's Mr. Tumnus's father," Lucy told him, looking at what he held.

_'Rivilian,'_ Edmund thought, remembering what Aslan had told him about the Creatures who lived at the edges of the Lantern Waste.

"Look at this," Peter said, ripping a piece of paper off the wall.

"The former occupant of these premises, the Faun, Tumnus," he read, "is under arrest and awaiting a trial on the charge of high treason against her imperial majesty, Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, for comforting her enemies, harboring spies, and fraternizing with humans. Signed, Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police. Long Live the Queen."

For the longest moment, no one could speak; they could only stare at one another in horror.

"All right," Susan said, finally breaking the silence, "now we should _really_ go back."

"But we have to help him!" Lucy cried.

"If he was arrested just for being with a human," Susan said, "I don't think there's much we can do."

"You don't get it, do you?" Lucy protested. "_I'm_ the human. She must have found out he was helping me."

_'The trees,'_ Edmund thought, suddenly. _'Aslan said that some of the tree spirits are on her side. If one of them heard Lucy telling me about Tumnus, or even saw them together-'_

"Maybe we should call the police," Peter suggested, breaking into Edmund's thoughts.

"These are the police," Susan told him, emphatically, jabbing a finger down on the piece of parchment.

"Don't worry, Lucy," Peter said, when he noticed her depressed expression. "We'll think of something."

Suddenly, they heard a hissing noise from outside the window. Susan stared at the Robin sitting on a nearby tree branch.

"Did that Bird just psst at us?" she asked, in astonishment.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Peter said, as the Bird hissed again, and hopped away to a further branch.

Peter shrugged once, and went out the door, his siblings following behind. They followed the Robin as it hopped from tree to tree, hissing so that they didn't lose sight of it. Then, it suddenly flew off, leaving them standing alone in the middle of the forest. A few seconds later, they heard rustling from a nearby bush. The children instinctively drew closer to one another for protection.

"There's something out there," Susan said, softly, as the leaves moved, slightly.

"It's small, whatever it is," Peter replied.

"It's a Beaver," Lucy gasped, as the small creature waddled out from behind the bushes. "Look, you can see its tail."

"Here, boy," Peter called out softly, walking slowly forward, clicking his tongue. "Here, boy."

"Peter-" Edmund began.

"Hush, you'll scare it," Peter hissed, quietly, never taking his eyes off Beaver. "Come here, boy," he repeated, stretching a hand out slowly.

Beaver sat on his haunches, and blinked once at Peter.

"Well, I ain't going to smell it, if that's what you want," he said, scornfully.

Peter yelped in surprise, stumbling backward to land in an undignified heap on the snow. Edmund couldn't help it; a small laugh escaped from his lips, earning him a dirty look from Susan. He noted, with quickly-suppressed resentment, that Lucy's laugh a moment later earned no such look.

_'Why can't they see that I've changed?'_ he thought.

Peter, meanwhile, had picked himself up off the ground, and was brushing himself off.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. Beaver merely sniffed.

"Lucy Pevensie?" he asked, looking past Peter toward the girls.

"Yes?" she asked, stepping toward him. Beaver held out a handkerchief, and she took it.

"Hey," she said, a puzzled tone in her voice, "that's the hanky I gave Mr.-"

"Tumnus," Beaver finished, solemnly. "He got it to me just before they took him."

"Is he all right?" Lucy asked, concerned.

Beaver shook his head. "Further in," he said, scurrying off.

"What are you doing?" Susan asked Peter in an undertone, grabbing his arm as he made to go after Beaver.

"She's right," Edmund said, reluctant to trust any unknown Creatures after how close Lucy had come to being the Witch's prisoner last time. "How do we know we can trust him?"

"He says he knows the Faun," Peter argued.

"He's a beaver!" Susan cried, incredulously. "He shouldn't be saying anything!"

"Everything all right?" Beaver asked, stopping to watch them.

"Yes," Peter called back, extracting his arm from Susan's grip. "We were just talking."

"That's better left for safer quarters," Beaver said, slapping his tail on the snow for emphasis.

"He means the trees," Lucy told them, as she and Peter followed Beaver.

Edmund and Susan shared a look of understanding and exasperation over their siblings, before hurrying through the darkening forest after them. They followed Beaver over increasingly rocky ground before they reached a dammed-up pool of frozen water. A large mass of branches rested proudly in the middle. Smoke rose from a chimney in the center of the dam.

"Looks like the old gal's got the kettle on," Beaver said, proudly. "A nice cup of Rosy Leigh."

"It's lovely," Lucy said, and Beaver smiled at the compliment.

"Merely a trifle," he said. "Not quite finished, yet. Be a look of business when it is, though."

"Beaver? Is that you?" a feminine voice called out. Another Beaver poked her head out of the dam. "If I find you've been out with Badger, again, I'll-"

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the children standing behind Beaver.

"Oh," she gasped, surprised. "Well, these aren't Badgers. Oh, I never thought I'd live to see this day."

Turning to Beaver, she snapped, "Look at my fur. You couldn't have given me ten minutes warning?"

"I'd have given you a week if I thought it would help," Beaver replied, sweetly.

Mrs. Beaver ignored him in favor of turning her attention back to the children.

"Let's get you inside, and see if we can't get you some food. And some _civilized_ company," she added, pointedly.

Peter, Susan, and Lucy followed Mrs. Beaver inside the dam, eagerly, but Edmund hesitated, looking nervously at the peaks where he knew the Witch's castle to be.

_'We're too close, here,'_ he thought. _'If she hears of us, here at Beavers' Dam-'_

"Enjoying the scenery, are we?" Beaver asked, and Edmund jerked. He ducked quickly inside, Beaver following close behind.

"Is there nothing we can do to help Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy was asking, plaintively, as Edmund sat in a chair near the entrance.

"I'm afraid not," Beaver said. "They'll have taken him to the Witch's castle, and you know what they say about that. There's few who go through them gates that come out again."

"Let's save that talk until after dinner," Mrs. Beaver scolded her husband, lightly. "You need to go catch some fish so that we can feed our guests."

Beaver grumbled but went back out onto the frozen pond.

"Don't you need a fishing line?" Lucy asked, watching him leave, and Mrs. Beaver chuckled, quietly.

"Mr. Beaver is very good at catching fish," she told Lucy.

"He'll just reach in and pluck them right out," Edmund added, with exaggerated hand gestures that made Lucy giggle.

"Would you help him, dear?" Mrs. Beaver asked Peter, looking over at him, and the boy nodded, slipping quietly out of the dam.

"You can set the table, dear," Mrs. Beaver continued, shifting her gaze to Lucy. To Susan and Edmund, she added, "And you can help me cut the potatoes, and then you can get the barrel of beer and draw up a mug for Beaver."

The children set about their assigned tasks, Edmund helping Lucy with the table after he'd hauled the heavy barrel of beer out of the pantry that was little more than a hole dug in the side of the wall. Susan helped Mrs. Beaver cut up the potatoes and they watched as she fried them up with surprising skill, given the small paws she had.

"Aren't you worried about having fire inside the dam?" he asked, when the small stove sparked, alarmingly.

"Oh, nothing catches fire in this cold," Mrs. Beaver said. "At least not without a lot of effort."

"I'm going to go watch Peter and Mr. Beaver catch some fish," Lucy said, jumping to her feet.

"Take your coat!" Edmund and Susan called after her, at the same time.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Mr. Beaver, Peter, and Lucy were back with their catch, and Mrs. Beaver fried it up as quickly as she had the potatoes. The children seated themselves at the table.

"Are you sure there isn't anything we can do for Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy asked, taking up their thread of conversation from earlier.

"Not while the White Witch has him," Mr. Beaver said, matter-of-factly, and Lucy's face fell.

"Fish and chips!" Mrs. Beaver sang out, as she placed a platter on the table. Catching sight of Lucy's despondent expression, she smiled.

"But there is hope, dear," she said, kindly. "Lots of hope."

"Oh, yeah," Beaver chortled, slamming his tankard down on the table. "There's a right bit more than hope. Aslan is on the move."

Edmund looked up at that, from his study of the earthen floor, to stare at the Beavers in amazement.

"Aslan?" he whispered, feeling lighter than he had for the whole day.

During all his time in Narnia, Aslan had been mostly absent from everyone and everything, trusting Oreius, as his general, to take command. He'd only appeared when it was of dire importance. For him to be on the move now - Edmund felt a thrill run through him at the thought.

"Here's the marmalade roll!" Mrs. Beaver interrupted, setting the plate in the center of the table.

Susan startled slicing up the thick dessert for everyone, but Edmund shook his head at the proffered portion, pushing away from the table to pace over to the door. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had dogged him since returning to Narnia.

_'I'll just go patrol outside for a moment,'_ he thought, slipping out of the dam. _'Just to make sure there's nothing wrong.'_

He started prowling around the perimeter of the dam, keeping on the alert for anything even remotely suspicious. Then, a soft hissing noise drew his attention to the tree line. Going over to the trees, he found the robin from Mr. Tumnus's house sitting in a low branch, watching him.

"Good evening, good Robin," he greeted, holding a hand out for the Bird to alight on. "Your name?"

"I am Flick, Majesty," the Robin said, hopping onto Edmund's hand. "I knocked my beak on the door, but no one answered."

"What did you want to tell us?" Edmund asked.

"Wolves, Majesty," Flick told him. "The White Witch's Secret Police are on the hunt."

"Are they near the dam?" Edmund asked, feeling a bolt of fear running through him at the Robin's words.

"They circle closer with each pass through the woods," Flick said.

"Thank you," Edmund said, and the Bird bobbed his head, courteously.

Tossing his hand up, he gave the Bird a boost into the air and watched as he flew away as fast as his wings could take him. Then, with one last glance back at the dam, he darted off into the woods.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

"Who's Aslan?" Peter asked, voicing what had to be on the others' minds.

"Who's Aslan?" Beaver echoed. "Ha, ha! You cheeky blighter! What?" he added, when Mrs. Beaver poked him sharply with a long claw.

He took a good look at their confused faces.

"You really don't know, do you?" he asked.

"Well, we haven't exactly been here a long time," Peter explained.

"He's only the king of the whole wood," Beaver continued. "The top geezer; the real king of Narnia."

"You're blooming joking," he said, when he saw that none of it was seeming to make sense with them. "Don't you even know about the prophecy?"

Susan shook her head, answering for all of them.

"Look," Beaver explained, patiently, now. "Aslan's return, Tumnus's arrest, the Secret Police, it's all happening because of you."

"You're blaming us?" Peter demanded.

"Not blaming you, dear," Mrs. Beaver corrected. "Thanking you."

"There's a prophecy," Beaver told them. "When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done."

"You know, that doesn't really rhyme," Susan interjected.

"I know it don't, but you're kinda missing the point!" Beaver growled, frustrated.

"It has been long foretold," Mrs. Beaver spoke up, hastily, "that two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve will appear to defeat the White Witch, and restore peace to Narnia."

"And you think we're the ones?" Peter asked, incredulously.

"Well, you'd better be," Beaver said, "because Aslan's already fitted out your army. They're waiting for ya at the Stone Table."

"Our army?" Lucy whispered.

"Mum sent us away so we wouldn't get involved in a war!" Susan exclaimed.

"I think you've made a mistake," Peter protested. "We're not heroes."

"We're from Finchley!" Susan added.

The beavers exchanged looks, clearly not understanding a word she was saying. Noticing this, Susan flushed.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she said, hurriedly, "but we really have to go."

"You can't just leave!" Beaver cried.

"He's right," Lucy said, turning to her older siblings. "We have to help Mr. Tumnus."

"It's out of our hands, Lucy," Peter said, firmly. "I'm sorry, but it's time the four of us were going. Ed, time to go. Ed-"

His voice trailed off when he realized that his little brother was nowhere to be seen. A million thoughts raced though his mind before he fixed on one.

"I'm going to kill him."

"You may not have to," Beaver said, when silence filled the dam after Peter's comment. "Has Edmund ever been to Narnia before?"

Everyone paused to consider the implications of this statement, and then Susan and Peter raced outside, looking around frantically for their younger brother.

"Edmund!" Peter yelled.

"Quiet!" Beaver hissed, desperately. "They'll hear ya!"

Peter started to run into the forest, but Beaver stopped him.

"Get off me!" Peter snapped. "I have to find him!"

"We can't just leave him out here!" Susan protested.

"It's no good," Beaver said, firmly. "He's no more than bait, now that he's betrayed ya."

"He hasn't!" Lucy cried, angrily, but Beaver didn't seem to hear her.

"The Witch wants all four of ya," he continued.

"He's our brother," Lucy said, softly. "He wouldn't, he couldn't betray us."

"Wants us for what?" Peter demanded, turning on Beaver.

"To stop the prophecy from coming true," Beaver told them. "She wants to kill ya."

The children shared a moment of stunned, horrified, silence, and then Susan whirled on Peter.

"This is all your fault!" she cried. "None of this would have happened if you'd just listened to me in the first place!"

"My fault?" Peter snapped. "So, I suppose you knew this was going to happen?"

"Stop it!" Lucy yelled, surprising the bickering siblings. "This isn't going to help Edmund."

"She's right," Beaver said. "Only Aslan can help your brother, now."

"Then take us to him," Peter said, a determined light filling his eyes.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund shivered, rubbing his arms as a defense against the cold as he walked through the snow.

_'Forgetting my coat isn't the stupidest thing I've ever done,'_ he reminded himself. _'Deliberately leading the Pack away from Beaver's Dam on my own, without backup, might qualify, though.'_

When he judged himself to be far enough away from Beaver's Dam, he stopped going to such pains to hide his tracks. He left clear footprints in the snow and touched trees as he continued his trek through the forest, leaving a scent trail the Secret Police was sure to pick up. As though they'd read his mind, he heard a faint howl in the distance.

Then, he topped a rise, and found himself staring at Maugrim, not one hundred yards away. The Wolf looked at him, and Edmund knew that, he, unlike the Witch, had no trouble recognizing him.

"You want me?" Edmund challenged softly, knowing full well the wolf would hear him. "Come and get me."

Wolf and boy stood in a frozen tableau for a long second, before Edmund whirled around, crashing through the brush in a desperate sprint. An instant later, the Wolf was running after him.

Edmund put on another burst of speed, straining muscles unused to the regimen his mind had five years of experience with. Drawing on energy he didn't know he possessed, he pulled further away from Maugrim. A flash of red out of the corner of his eye revealed a Fox running alongside him.

"Majesty!" Auric gasped, looking back at the wolf.

"Forget him," Edmund ordered. "In Beaver's Dam; my siblings are there. Get them out. Don't let the wolves find them."

"Yes, Majesty," Auric said, dashing off in the direction of Beaver's Dam, as Edmund prayed that Maugrim hadn't seen him.

_'Please let them be safe,'_ he prayed.

Sensing Maugrim closing in on him, he tried to speed up again, but was no match for the Wolf. Seconds later, a hard swipe from Maugrim's paw had him slamming into the ground, the air knocked from his lungs with the impact.

He lay curled on the ground for several seconds, gasping desperately for air, as he tried to deal with the pain from the gashes Maugrim had inflicted. When the blinding agony receded enough for him to sit up, he did so, wondering why Maugrim hadn't already torn his throat out. Then, he got his answer.

As he looked up, he found himself trapped by the frozen gaze of the White Witch. She smiled, chillingly, and his insides froze in terror.

"Well, well," she said, softly. "Look who we have here."


	5. In the Witch's Lair

**Author's Note: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I can't believe how many there were.**

**Chapter Five: In the Witch's Lair**

"Well, well. Look who we have here."

Edmund closed his eyes, again, silently cursing his bad luck. Then, he cried out in pain as the Witch grabbed the back of his shirt, dragging him to his feet. He dangled helplessly in her iron grip, completely at her mercy.

"I wondered if I'd ever see you again, Edmund," the Witch crooned, her melodic voice menacingly quiet. "Maugrim has told me all about you."

"Has he?" Edmund asked, recklessly.

"Oh, yes," the Witch replied. "He told me that you were the very same boy who gave him that gash on his muzzle five years ago. Aslan's little Son of Adam."

"I've waited five long years to pay you back," Maugrim spoke up, a bloodthirsty grin on his lupine face.

"I don't like that you lied to me, Edmund," the Witch continued, ignoring the sudden interruption.

"I never lied to you," Edmund rasped out, painfully, wondering why she'd changed topics, and what she could possibly be referring to.

He grunted suddenly when the Witch's free hand slammed into the side of his face.

"You said that you would bring me your siblings," the Witch said. "I don't see them, here."

"I said that I could bring them to you," Edmund corrected, while the logical part of his brain practically screamed at him to shut up before he got himself killed. "Not that I would."

In answer, the Witch hit him again, letting go of his collar at the same time, so that he fell to the ground, landing in a heap. His face throbbed where her hand had connected, and he could barely move, as the pain from the wounds on his back had flared up, blinding him with the agony.

"Where are they?" the Witch demanded, pinning him to the ground with her staff. "Where are your siblings?"

"I'll never tell you," Edmund vowed.

"Then you've just signed their death warrants," the Witch told him. "Maugrim!"

"Your Majesty," the Wolf said, respectfully, stepping forward.

"Find the humans," she said, never taking her eyes off of Edmund. "And kill them."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

"Did you find Edmund?" Mrs. Beaver asked, as Beaver, Peter, Susan, and Lucy trudged wearily back into the dam.

"He's with the Witch, now," Beaver said, heavily. "He's betrayed us, all."

Mrs. Beaver gave a startled gasp, clapping a paw to her mouth.

"Why?" she asked. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"I don't know," Peter said, sighing quietly.

"Lucy," Susan said, "when you came to Narnia last time, with Edmund, where was he?"

"I don't know," Lucy said. "I was with Mr. Tumnus the whole time. I only saw Edmund as I was leaving. He was acting strangely, though."

"Strange, how?" Peter asked.

"He seemed unhappy," Lucy told them. "He wanted to leave right away, and when we were in the spare room again, he made me promise not to go back to Narnia without him, or Susan, or you along. He said it was too dangerous."

"Now, how would he know that?" Susan asked, perplexed.

"Maybe he'd already met the Witch," Mrs. Beaver interjected, as the siblings stared at her. "Maybe his warning to Lucy was because of a guilty conscience."

"Or maybe he knew Lucy would want to go back, and wanted to be assured that he could get of many of you here as possible," Beaver said.

"No!" Lucy cried. "No, Edmund would never do anything like that."

"Are you saying that Edmund came here planning to betray us?" Peter demanded, incredulously. "I don't believe that. Not even Ed could be that monstrous."

"The Witch has a cunning way about her. She can entice almost anyone, if she puts her mind to it," Beaver retorted.

"Your brother probably believed every word that came out of her mouth, like it was Aslan, Himself, who said it," Mrs. Beaver added, mournfully.

Before anyone could say anything in reply, a faint scratching noise was heard coming from outside the dam. Everyone froze.

"What was that?" Susan whispered.

"Maybe it was just a tree, outside," Lucy suggested, nervously.

"That was no branch," Beaver said, and, as if in answer, the scratching could be heard, again. Only this time, it was much louder.

"The Secret Police!" Beaver gasped. He turned to Mrs. Beaver, but she had already started rummaged through her cupboards.

"What are you doing?" Peter cried, staring at the beaver as though she were insane.

"You'll thank me later," Mrs. Beaver informed him, matter-of-factly, as she pulled foodstuffs from the cupboards and threw them into a satchel. "It's a long journey, and Beaver gets cranky when he's hungry."

"I'm cranky now!" Beaver yelled.

Susan stared, perplexed, at the various jars Mrs. Beaver had shoved into her hands.

"Do you think we'll need jam?" she asked, confused.

"Only if the Witch serves toast!" Peter snapped.

Suddenly, the scratching sound changed, to one of snapping branches. To everyone's horror, a tiny sliver of light came through a hole in the roof.

From outside, they heard a voice growl faintly, "Take them."

"This way!" Beaver said, hurrying them toward a well-hidden door.

Grabbing Mrs. Beaver, who was still frantically packing her bag, he literally shoved her inside, after the children, and closed the door behind him.

"Me and Badger built this," he said, as they crawled quickly through the small tunnel. "Comes up right near his place."

"You told me it led to your mother's dam!" Mrs. Beaver exclaimed, indignantly.

From the back of the group, Lucy tripped, crying out in surprise. Peter sprinted back, pulling her to her feet. Then, he heard a faint howl.

"They're in the tunnel!" he yelled.

Everyone sped up, and then stared in dismay and disbelief as their efforts led them to a dead end.

"You should have brought a map," Mrs. Beaver said, as they backtracked, searching desperately for another route.

"There wasn't room next to the jam!" Beaver muttered, snippily.

Finding a hole, he jumped out, followed by the rest. Lucy tripped on her way out, and Susan helped her to her feet as Peter and Beaver rolled an old barrel in front of the hole. Turning to see what had caused Lucy's fall, they saw a small stone creature. Beaver touched Badger's paw, sadly.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Beaver said, softly, comforting her husband.

"He was my best mate," Beaver mourned.

"What happened here?" Peter asked.

"This," a new voice chimed in, "is what happens when you cross the Witch."

They all looked up to see a small red Fox standing on the stone cairn nearby.

"Take one more step, traitor," Beaver threatened, "and I'll chew you to splinters."

"Relax," the Fox said, jumping down into the snow. "I'm one of the good guys."

"Well, you look an awful lot like one of the bad guys," Beaver informed him.

"An unfortunate family resemblance, but we can argue breeding later," the Fox said, with a sigh. "Now, we need to get you out of here."

"What did you have in mind?" Peter asked, suspiciously.

A minute later, they were all stuffed up in a high tree branch, with the Fox down on the ground covering their tracks with his long tail.

"Do you really think he can be trusted?" Susan whispered.

"I don't think we have a choice," Peter told her, softly.

Suddenly, the wolves burst out of the tunnel, and he bit back a gasp, lest he give them all away. The wolves circled around the Fox, who looked up, warily.

"Evening, gents," he said, politely. "Lost something, have we?"

"Don't patronize me," the biggest Wolf growled, menacingly, walking slowly around him. "I know where your allegiance lies, traitor. We're looking for humans."

"Humans?" the Fox repeated, with a short laugh. "In Narnia? Now, there's a valuable bit of information."

One of the wolves sprang, suddenly, seizing the Fox in his jaws. He dangled helplessly in its crushing grip.

"Your reward is your life," the first Wolf snarled. "It's not much, but still. Where were the fugitives headed?"

"North," the Fox gasped out, gesturing with his paw. His head slumped, with shame and defeat. "They went north."

"Smell them out," the first Wolf growled, bounding off.

The Wolf holding the Fox dropped him, and the pack sprang after him, howling wildly. The Fox lay so still for several seconds that Peter thought he was dead. Then, he picked himself up slowly, and looked up at them.

"You can come down, now," he said, softly.

They got a tiny fire going with some sticks of half-dry wood, and the Fox lay still while Mrs. Beaver did her best to patch him up.

"I don't believe we were properly introduced," he said, wincing as one of his cuts started stinging. "I'm Auric."

"I'm Peter," Peter said. "And these are my sisters, Susan and Lucy."

"I know," Auric replied, and Peter wondered how he could possibly know about them.

"Are you all right?" Lucy asked, worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Auric assured her. "Although, I wish I could say that their bark was worse than their bite-OW!"

He glared at Mrs. Beaver who stared back at him, impassively. Relenting, Auric lay back down, muttering under his breath.

"You're worse than Beaver on bath day," Mrs. Beaver said, exasperated.

"Worst day of the year," Beaver moaned, quietly.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Lucy repeated, fretting.

"I will be just fine," Auric said. "Although, I'm afraid that's all the cure I have time for."

"You're leaving?" Lucy gasped.

"It has been a pleasure, my Queen, and an honor, but I must be going. Aslan, Himself, has asked me to gather more troops from the Shuddering Wood."

"You've seen Aslan?" Beaver asked, skeptically, as he was standing up.

"What's He like?" Mrs. Beaver asked, eagerly.

"Like everything we've ever dreamed of," Auric said, a look of awe and wonder on his narrow face. "You'll be glad to have him at your side in the battle against the Witch."

"Wait!" Susan cried, as the Fox made to leave. "You didn't see another human, did you? Our brother's run off."

"He's betrayed them, is what he's done," Beaver said, and then whipped his head around to stare at the Fox, who was growling softly.

"You would be wise not to repeat that," he said. "Not all who serve are as tolerant and understanding of such slurs against His Majesty as I am."

"What are you talking about?" Susan demanded.

"Edmund has not betrayed any of you," Auric informed them. "Saved your lives, is more like it, little though some of you seem to deserve it," he added, glaring at Beaver.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked. "How's Edmund saved us?"

"He's the one who sent me to warn you about the Wolves," Auric informed him. "Without his warning you would never have gotten away in time."

"But, how could he have known?" Susan asked. "And why did he go to the Witch?"

"He didn't-" Auric began, but his voice cut off, suddenly, as he looked up, staring at nothing and sniffing the air.

"It's not safe here," he said, urgently. "You must get out of here, now."

"But, Edmund," Peter protested.

"You can do nothing for him without Aslan's help," Auric informed them. "Now, go!"

Spinning, he sprang away into the growing darkness, leaving them alone.

"You heard him," Mrs. Beaver said, tossing snow on the fire with her tail. "Let's get going."

"Do you think that Fox is telling the truth?" Peter asked, as the motley group started walking through the forest. "About Edmund not betraying us, I mean?"

"No, I don't," Beaver said, surprising them. "I don't trust that sneaky little Wolf-kin as far as I can throw him."

"Edmund would never betray us!" Lucy cried, angrily, glaring at Beaver. "He's been to Narnia before."

"And met with the Witch, I'll wager," Beaver countered.

"Mr. Tumnus said that he'd heard of Edmund," Lucy began, hotly, but subsided when Peter put a hand on her shoulder.

"The Fox did say that Edmund sent him to warn us," Susan protested.

"So he says," Beaver replied. "How can we be sure he even knows your brother?"

"Auric lied to the Wolves for us!" Lucy reminded them.

"Lucy's right," Peter said. "Why would he risk his own life, if he wasn't telling the truth?"

"It could well be a trap," Beaver said. "The Wolves may well have known we were there. That whole scene may have an act, to fool us into trusting him."

"So, what do we do?" Peter asked, uneasily.

"We keep moving," Beaver replied. "If the Wolves are indeed after us, our best shot is to get to Aslan as soon as possible."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

The Witch whipped her reindeer mercilessly, driving them into the courtyard of her castle at near-breakneck speed. Edmund looked around at his surroundings, feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of so many creatures turned to stone. The stone lion, his mouth opened in a defiant roar, made him especially heartsick.

"Enjoying the scenery?" the Witch asked, in an uncanny mockery of Beaver.

Edmund swallowed hard, suppressing a shiver of fear as she leaned in close to him.

"What did they ever do to you?" he whispered, hoarsely. The Witch gave a high-pitched laugh.

"They existed," she replied, simply. Gesturing to Ginarrbrik, she said, "Bring him."

Yanking roughly on the rope restraining Edmund's hands behind his back, the dwarf pressed a knife into the small of his back, forcing him into a quickstep, to keep from getting cut. Ginarrbrik marched him into the castle, itself, and Edmund found himself standing before an empty, icy throne.

"Someday," the Witch said, surprising him, "I'll have no use for this place. I will rule from the Golden Palace."

"You will never rule Cair Paravel!" Edmund hissed, furiously. "Not so long as Aslan walks this earth!"

"So, the Great Lion has come, has he?" the Witch asked, turning her cunning eyes on him. "And I suppose he thinks he can stop me."

_'Just great,'_ Edmund berated himself, silently. _'I just had to go and tell her about Aslan, didn't I?'_

"Put him in the dungeon," the Witch ordered Ginarrbrik. "And feed him. We wouldn't want our _guest_ growing weak from hunger."

"This way for your num-nums," Ginarrbrik said, smiling nastily, as he pressed the knife into Edmund's back.

Edmund had no choice but to move. Shortly, he found himself chained in an icy prison, heavy manacles around his ankles. The short chain was attached to the wall nearby, leaving him little room to move. He stared uneasily at the Witch's hospitality--the blackened crust of bread and the musty cup of water that had already frozen.

"If you're not going to eat that," a soft voice asked, from the cell next to his, "may I have it?"

"You're welcome to it," Edmund said, stretching awkwardly to pass his fellow captive the bread. "If you can chew it."

His hand met the other's, and he found himself looking into the miserable face of a Faun.

"I'd get up," the Faun, said, apologetically, as he took the bread, "but with my legs…"

"You're Tumnus," Edmund said, recognizing a resemblance from the picture he'd found in the ruined house.

"What's left of him," Tumnus replied, with a weak smile. "You're Lucy Pevensie's brother," he said, suddenly, as he stared penetratingly at Edmund.

"I'm Edmund," he introduced himself.

The faun smiled again, and then did a strange thing. He picked up Edmund's hand, which still rested in the gap between their cells, and, grasping his fingers, wiggled them, causing his whole arm to shake.

"Lucy taught me that shaking hands is a proper greeting among your people," Tumnus told him, as Edmund stared at him, completely baffled.

"So it is," Edmund replied, faintly. "How-how did you know that Lucy is my sister?"

"You have the same nose," Tumnus told him, and Edmund rubbed his, self-consciously.

"Tell me," Tumnus said, with a palpable eagerness. "Is your sister all right? Is she safe?" he pressed, when Edmund didn't answer.

"I don't know," Edmund said, at last. "I don't know if any of them are safe. I don't even know if they're alive, if Auric warned them in time-"

He broke off, suddenly, as the Witch appeared in his cell, looming over him.

"My Wolves tracked your siblings to a beaver's dam, but they were nowhere to be found," she snarled, as he shrank back from her in fear.

"Maybe they didn't look hard enough?" Tumnus suggested, meekly, as Edmund's mind raced with the possibilities.

The Witch glared murderously at him before turning her attention back to Edmund.

"My police tore that dam apart!" she exploded, lifting him by his shirt collar and shaking him, savagely. "Where would they go?"

"I-I don't know!" Edmund choked out.

"He's not from around here," Tumnus interjected, quickly. "He doesn't know Narnia."

"That's where you're wrong," the Witch corrected, still glaring at Edmund.

"Perhaps," she continued, her voice no longer so vicious, "all you need is some incentive. Guard!"

An ogre entered, bowing low before the Witch.

"Release the Faun," she commanded.

The Ogre lumbered into the next cell, dragging Tumnus, who struggled weakly, to no avail. The Ogre planted Tumnus in front of the Witch, and the Faun worked up enough energy to glare defiantly at her.

"Do you know why you are here, Faun?" the Witch asked, circling him, in a manner reminiscent of a hungry predator.

"Because I believe in a free Narnia!" Tumnus declared, defiantly.

"You're here because you've betrayed me to his kind," the Witch said, smiling. "And now you'll pay for that betrayal. Take him upstairs."

Turning to Ginarrbrik, she ordered, "I want answers out of the human. Where is Otmin?"

"He is ahead at your camp, Majesty," Ginarrbrik told her. "But, Gendor is still here."

"Get him," the Witch ordered.

The Black Dwarf scampered off, obediently, and Edmund stared up at the Witch in growing fear.

"Normally, Edmund," the Witch said, conversationally, as they waited, "I would handle this sort of situation, myself. But, there are matters I must attend to, so I will have to leave it in other, capable hands."

A shadow darkened the doorway behind her, and the Witch turned, allowing Edmund to stare at the biggest Minotaur he'd ever seen.

"Your Majesty, how may I serve you?" Gendor rumbled.

"Do whatever you need to get me answers," the Witch said, gesturing at Edmund. "Just don't kill the boy."

She turned and swept out of the cell, leaving Edmund curled up on the cold ground. His body shook as silent sobs wracked his body. The Minotaur advanced on him, slowly, and as the door to the prison cell swung shut, Edmund heard the Witch speaking, again.

"I want those humans found."

_'I'm so sorry,'_ he thought. _'Oh, how I wish I'd never brought any of you to Narnia!'_


	6. Not Quite Turkish Delight

**Chapter Six: Not Quite Turkish Delight**

As morning broke in Narnia, the children found themselves being led along by the Beavers.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked.

"Just right here, dear," Mrs. Beaver told him, as they stopped at a stone bridge.

"Now, Aslan's camp," Beaver said, gesturing with his paw, "is at the Stone Table, just across the frozen river."

Lucy got a worried look on her face, at that.

"River?" she asked, nervously.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, dear," Mrs. Beaver said, reassuringly. "The river's been frozen solid for over one hundred years."

"It's so far," Peter murmured, as he looked out at the vast expanse of land, unable to see anything but a great stretch of white.

"It's the world, dear," Mrs. Beaver said, turning to him. "Did you expect to be small?"

"Smaller," Susan said, as she started walking. After a moment, her siblings followed her, with the Beavers close behind.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund lay huddled, miserably, on the icy floor of his prison cell. He hurt from his session of questioning at Gendor's hands, and his throat was raw from screaming. He was no longer crying; his tears had long since dried up. Instead, his siblings' faces kept running through his mind, along with what the Witch would do to them, if she caught them.

_'When she catches them,'_ he thought, despondently. _'After all, what hope do three humans and two Beavers have against a pack of Wolves? I never should have left the dam. They're going to get killed, and it's all my fault.'_

He remembered Beaver's words about there being hope, now that Aslan was on the move, but it was hard to believe the sentiment, especially when he was locked up in a cell and helpless to protect his family as they tried to run from the White Witch. He wanted to believe Beaver; believe that Aslan would protect his siblings. It just felt so impossible, when the situation was so bleak.

_"If you would believe in me in the good times, then why not the bad?"_

Edmund jerked at the sound of the ghostly voice, and as he looked over his shoulder, he expected to see the Lion standing behind him, watching him with those dark, all-knowing eyes. But the cell was empty.

_"I am always with you, Edmund. As I am with your family."_

He relaxed at the sound of the beloved voice filling the empty space.

"I know," he said, softly, out loud.

Suddenly, he heard the lock of his cell rattling, and he looked up to see the Ogre that had taken Tumnus away standing menacingly in the doorway. Crossing the cell in a few long strides, the Ogre picked him up, snapping the chains restraining him to the wall with a quick jerk, and hauled him bodily out of his prison.

Edmund's feet didn't touch the ground until they'd reached the courtyard, and even then, it was only for a few seconds, as his frozen legs refused to support his weight. He crashed to the ground, amid the sounds of the Witch's derisive laughter.

"Is the poor, little Prince cold?" she asked, mockingly. "When you're ready, Son of Adam."

He stared, apprehensively, at the sledge, but didn't move. The Witch gestured, impatiently, and Edmund felt himself being hauled upright by the Ogre, again. Ginarrbrik lashed a thick length of rope around his wrists, binding them behind his back, and shoved him into the sledge. He fell to his knees, biting back a sharp cry of pain.

The Witch climbed in at a more sedate pace, and took her time bundling herself into her furs. When she was finally ready, she gestured again. Ginarrbrik whipped the Reindeer, cruelly, and they went racing off.

As they left the courtyard, Edmund caught sight of the newest statue decorating the Witch's castle. The look of unbearable agony on Tumnus's face sent guilt lancing through Edmund, breaking his heart.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

"Do you think he's all right?"

Peter looked over at Susan's quiet question.

"You mean Edmund?" he asked. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Peter, he's with the Witch!" Susan exclaimed.

"Only because he betrayed us," Peter reminded her.

"What if he didn't?" Susan asked. "You heard that Fox."

"Beaver says he's lying," Peter said, stubbornly.

"Lucy says he isn't," Susan countered. "Face it, Peter. You want Edmund to be a traitor just so that you don't have admit that you were wrong about him."

"That isn't fair," Peter said, softly, stung by the accusation.

"Neither is the way we've been treating Edmund," Susan told him. "We never even apologized to him for not believing about Narnia."

"He never said," Peter began, but Susan cut him off.

"Oh, yes, he did," she said. "He told us he'd been to Narnia, and we brushed him off just like we did Lucy."

"I forgot about that," Peter admitted, slowly. "Or, maybe I just ignored it."

"We've been ignoring a lot when it comes to Edmund, lately," Susan told him.

"If he hasn't betrayed us," Peter said, slowly, "if he's truly the Witch's prisoner, then his life will be worth nothing to her."

"That's what I was afraid of," Susan said. "Peter, what if she's already killed him?"

Her voice, already taut with emotion, rose sharply as she spoke, and Lucy looked back curiously from where she'd been walking ahead of her siblings, with the Beavers.

"What are you two talking about?" Lucy asked, joining them.

Peter and Susan shared a quick look, silently deciding not to worry Lucy with their fears. Improvising, Susan rubbed her arms, vigorously, as though she were freezing.

"Do you think it's warm anywhere in Narnia?" she asked, plaintively. "Surely, it can't be frozen everywhere."

"Mr. Tumnus said it is," Lucy said, quietly. "He said that the Witch cursed all of Narnia to be in winter. And she even took away Christmas!"

"Do they even have Christmas in Narnia?" Susan asked, dubiously.

"Of course they do!" Lucy exclaimed, defensively. "Why wouldn't they?"

"You've got to admit," Peter said. "It doesn't seem very likely for Santa Clause to be roaming around giving presents to the Talking Beasts."

"Why not?" Lucy demanded, whirling on him.

"Come on, humans! While we're still young!" Beaver bellowed, from far in front of them, saving Peter from thinking of an answer.

Peter sighed in aggravation at what had become Beaver's mantra, stopping deliberately so that Lucy could climb up on his back.

"If he tells us to hurry one more time," he muttered, under his breath, "I'm going to turn him into a big, fluffy hat!"

"He is kind of bossy," Lucy said, as Susan muffled a laugh with the back of her hand.

"Come on!" Beaver yelled, a note of panic suddenly entering his voice. "Hurry up. We don't have all day!"

"We're hurrying!" Peter snapped, frustrated.

"NO!" Beaver yelled, gesturing. "Look! It's her! Run!"

Peter's head snapped around to take in the sight of the sledge racing across the snow towards them, at breakneck speed. Then, he gripped Lucy's legs tighter, as she clutched his shoulders, and he began to sprint across the ice. Susan was right behind him. They ducked into the woods, and took cover in a small, snow-covered cave, barely daring to breathe for fear their pursuer would hear them.

The sound of footsteps grew louder and a bit of snow fell in a shower, as it was kicked off the top of their hiding spot. A dark shadow fell over the entrance and everyone scooted back, fearfully, trying to stay out of sight. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the shadow disappeared and the footsteps faded.

"Maybe she's gone," Lucy suggested, in a whisper.

"Perhaps I'd better go and look," Peter said.

"No!" Beaver hissed, grabbing his coat sleeve. "You're worth nothing to Narnia dead."

"But neither are you," Mrs. Beaver protested, as Beaver made to leave the tiny cave.

"Thanks, dear," Beaver told her, flashing her a quick smile before he disappeared topside.

For a few unbearable seconds, there was only silence. Then, Beaver poked his head back into the cave, and Lucy shrieked in fright.

"I hope you've been good," Beaver told them, "because there's someone here to see ya."

Curiously and cautiously, the children and Mrs. Beaver followed him out into the sunlight. Then, they stood in amazement at what they saw. A tall man, with a long white beard and a red suit stood beside a sledge pulled by massive reindeer.

"Is that-" Susan gasped, in shock, and Lucy nodded happily. "I told you he was real," she said.

"Merry Christmas, sir," she added, walking up to Father Christmas.

Privately, Peter thought he looked more like the Old Norse warriors from his history text than the jolly old elf from the stories, but he thought it wisest to keep that observation to himself.

"It certainly is, Lucy, since you have arrived," Father Christmas was saying.

"I've put up with a lot since we got here," Susan muttered, "but this-"

"We thought you were the Witch," Peter said, interrupting his sister before she could really put her foot in her mouth.

"Ah, yes, but in my defense," Father Christmas told him, gesturing to the sledge that had startled them so, "I've been driving one of these for longer than she has."

"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan said, suspiciously.

"There wasn't," Father Christmas said. "But the hope that your Majesties have brought is finally starting to weaken the Witch's power. However, I daresay you could do with these!"

With a mischievous smile, he hoisted a large bag out of his sledge. Lucy's eyes went impossibly wide.

"Presents!" she cried, darting forward, eagerly.

"Beavers," Father Christmas began, "your presents await you back at your home."

"Excuse me, sir," Mrs. Beaver spoke up, "but it's locked up tight."

"Locks and doors do not matter to me," Father Christmas told them. "Now, Mrs. Beaver, a new sewing machine is waiting for you, as well as a new table to hold it."

"Thank you," Mrs. Beaver said, happily.

"And, for you, Beaver," Father Christmas continued, "when you return home, you will find a new sluice gate fitted to your home, as well as all damage fixed from the Wolves' attack."

Then, he turned to the Pevensies.

"This is for you, Lucy," Father Christmas said, solemnly, handing her a belt with a small cordial on it. "It contains the juice of the fire-flower. One drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you never have to use it-"

His voice trailed off as he handed her a sheathed dagger. Swallowing hard, Lucy carefully accepted the weapon, attaching it to the belt before slinging it around her waist.

"Thank you, sir, but I think I could be brave enough," she managed.

"I'm sure you could," Father Christmas said, smiling at her. "But battles are ugly affairs."

"For you, Susan," he continued. She stepped forward, and he handed her a short, recurve bow and a beautifully tooled quiver full of arrows.

"Trust in this bow," he told her, "for it does not lightly miss."

"What happened to 'battles are ugly affairs'?" Susan asked, wryly, ignoring the elbow Peter jabbed pointedly into her side.

"And though you seem to have no trouble making yourself heard," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken, "blow on this horn and help will come, wherever you are."

Susan slung the quiver over her shoulder before accepting the horn and stepping back. Then, Peter came forward.

"As for you, Son of Adam," Father Christmas said.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a shield and a sheathed sword, both of which he passed to Peter. Peter accepted them, wordlessly, and drew the sword, eying the blade.

"These are tools," Father Christmas said, solemnly, "not toys. Bear them well, for the time to use them may be near at hand."

Climbing back into his sledge, he smiled at them.

"Well," he said, "I'd best be off. Winter is almost over, and things do start to pile up a bit, when you've been gone for a hundred years."

"Wait!" Lucy cried, before he could drive off. "What about Edmund? Don't you have anything for him?"

"Your brother," Father Christmas said. "Yes, where is he?"

"He's not with us," Peter told him. "He's-"

"He's the Witch's prisoner," Susan said, shooting her brother a look. "We're going to Aslan, to see if he can help us get him back."

"That is a good plan," Father Christmas said.

"Don't you have any presents for Edmund?" Lucy repeated, a plaintive note in her voice.

It suddenly hit Peter why she was so stuck on that idea. Father Christmas had given them their gifts because they were a symbol of goodness, the prophesied saviors of Narnia, and Lucy needed that reassurance about Edmund, as well. And he found himself awaiting the answer just as anxiously as she was. Seeing their frantic expressions, Father Christmas smiled, kindly.

"Edmund has already received his gift," he told them.

Flicking his reindeer's reins, he disappeared in a cloud of snow, leaving everyone staring after him. Susan was the first to speak.

"If anyone had told me yesterday that I'd be accepting weapons from Father Christmas in order to save a world in the wardrobe, I'd have called them crazy," she stated.

"Told you he was real," Lucy said, a slightly smug note in her voice.

"He said winter was almost over," Peter said, suddenly. "You know what that means. No more ice!"

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Hours later, they found themselves standing on a riverbank, eyeing the chunks of ice floating down the fast moving river.

"I don't like the looks of this," Susan said, dubiously.

"If we're going to cross, we need to do it, now," Peter said, insistently.

"Wait," Susan protested. "Maybe we should think about this."

"We don't have time!" Peter said.

"I'm just trying to be realistic," Susan grumbled.

"No," Peter snapped, his patience worn thin, "you're trying to be smart. As usual."

Without another word, he started to climb down the slippery slope to the river, helping Lucy as she followed him. The Beavers were right behind him. Susan stared after him, stung by his thoughtless words. Then, she heard the distant howl of a Wolf, and scrambled down the bank to join the others.

She arrived in time to see Peter cautiously put his foot out on the ice, only to draw it back quickly as water spurted up.

"How are we ever going to find a safe path?" Lucy asked.

"Maybe I should go first," Beaver suggested.

"Maybe you should," Peter agreed.

Beaver stepped carefully onto the cracking ice, slapping his tail with each step, trying to determine the strongest places to walk.

"You've been sneaking second helpings!" Mrs. Beaver accused, suddenly.

"Well, you never know which meal is going to be your last," Beaver told her. "Especially with your cooking," he muttered softly.

"I heard that," Mrs. Beaver informed him, clearly not amused.

"Let's go," Peter said, leading his siblings along the path Beaver had marked out.

"If Mum knew what we were doing," Susan muttered.

"Mum's not here," Peter snapped, staring at the ground so as not to lose his footing.

"Look!" Lucy cried, suddenly, pointing up.

They followed her gaze to see the Wolves running along the top of the frozen waterfall.

"Run!" Peter yelled.

They only made it a few feet, however, before they found themselves surrounded by the Wolves. Beaver's attempt to defend them only served to get him pinned to the ice beneath a Wolf's paw. Desperately, Peter unsheathed his sword.

"Put that away, boy," Maugrim sneered. "Someone might get hurt."

"Don't worry about me," Beaver gritted out. "Run him through!"

"Oh, please do," Maugrim drawled. "It will be amusing to watch your pitiful attempts to save your lives."

"Maugrim, maybe we should take them back to Her Majesty," one of the Wolves spoke up. "Since she has the other one…"

"Shut up, Bertran!" another Wolf hissed, as Maugrim turned on the speaker. He slashed him, viciously, with a heavy paw to the face, before addressing him.

"The Queen's orders were to kill the humans," he snarled. "We do not disobey."

"Kill him!" Beaver cried, struggling ineffectually. "Kill him, now!"

"Just because some man in a red suit hands you a sword, it doesn't make you a hero!" Susan hissed, staring fearfully at the Wolves. "Just drop it."

"No, Peter," Beaver insisted. "Narnia needs ya!"

"What's it going to be, Son of Adam?" Maugrim taunted him. "I won't wait forever. And neither will the waterfall."

Something in the Wolf's words made Peter look up at the waterfall looming over them. Even as his mind registered the cracking of the ice, he'd plunged his sword into the ice, as an anchor.

"Hold onto me!" he cried, and Susan and Lucy gripped his coat, immediately.

Maugrim shook his head at what he clearly considered foolishness.

"Too late," he said, stepping forward.

Suddenly, the ice below their feet groaned, loudly, and gave way. Peter's startled outcry was cut off as they were immersed in the icy water below. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the Wolves struggling to stay on the quickly disappearing chunks of ice.

Clinging to the hilt of his sword with fingers already gone numb, he groped desperately for Susan and Lucy with his other hand. His frozen fingers brushed a fur coat, and he gripped it for all he was worth. He struggled, desperately, to keep his head above water as he was swept downstream. And he prayed for his sisters' safety.

A few moments later, even though it felt like an eternity, Peter found himself being washed up on the muddy bank of the river. Coughing wildly, he dragged himself further up the bank. Forcing himself to his feet, he saw Susan standing, shakily, a few feet downstream. Her coat hung, soaking and bedraggled, on her.

Suddenly he remembered the coat he held in his hand. Looking down, he saw Lucy's seal brown mink clutched in his fist. But there was no Lucy.

"Blimey," Beaver whispered, softly.

"What have you done?" Susan demanded, staring horrified at the hunk of fur that lay on the ground. Peter didn't even remember letting it fall from his fist.

_'No,'_ he thought, stunned. _'She can't be gone. First Edmund, now Lucy; I've lost them both.'_

"Lucy!" Susan yelled, looking around frantically. "Lucy!"

"LUCY!" he bellowed, as he desperately tried to find his baby sister.

"Has anyone seen my coat?" a familiar voice called out.

Lucy walked toward them, smiling weakly as she rubbed her arms to warm up, and Peter felt a sudden, unexpected sob rise in his throat at the sight. When she reached him, he swept her into such a tight hug that she squeaked in protest.

"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Beaver said, as Lucy extricated herself from Peter's crushing grip. "Your brother's got you well looked after."

"And I don't think you'll be needing those coats any longer," Beaver told them, pointing.

Following his gesture, they saw a patch of healthy, green grass, with small flowers. Laughing, Susan and Peter shed their coats, dropping them in a pile along with Lucy's.

"Thank Aslan," Mrs. Beaver said, shuddering. "Every time I looked at those coats, I wondered if it was someone I knew. No offense, of course."

"None taken," Peter assured her.

"Peter," Susan said, suddenly. "Do you remember what that Wolf said?"

"You mean besides wanting to kill me?" Peter asked, dryly.

"Not that one," Susan said, impatiently. "The other one. Remember, he said, 'Since she's got the other one.'"

"So?" Peter asked, confused.

"It means she hasn't killed him," Susan told him. "Edmund's alive, Peter."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund found himself on the banks of a very familiar river. Having passed the cave that had served as an impromptu hiding spot for him and Philip five years ago, he half expected to see hoof prints on either side of the river.

The tautness of the rope around his waist and wrists slackened, suddenly, and Edmund turned to see Ginarrbrik shrugging out of his heavy fur coat.

"It's so warm," he said, wonderingly.

A quick glare from the Witch had him shrinking back into it, however, and Edmund's lips quirked upwards as the Dwarf scurried off to check on the sledge.

"Your spells are failing," he said, smirking. "Spring is upon Narnia."

The Witch whirled on him, furious, but was stopped by the arrival of her Wolves. To Edmund's horror, Auric lay crushed between Maugrim's massive jaws. He dropped him, hard, and the Fox staggered to his paws, slowly.

"We've found the traitor, Your Majesty," Maugrim said. "He was gathering troops near the Shuddering Wood."

"Nice of you to drop by," the Witch said, smiling coldly at the Fox. "You were so helpful to my Wolves, last night."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Auric said.

"Oh, don't try to sway me with flattery," the Witch said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Not to seem rude," Auric said, softly, "but I wasn't speaking to you."

He looked past her to Edmund, who acknowledged him with a sad smile. He had an idea of what the Fox planned to do, and there was nothing he could do to stop him that wouldn't get them both killed. A conversation that he'd had with Oreius, two years ago, came to mind.

_"I won't let them die for me." Edmund said, stubbornly._

_"You are a future King of Narnia," Oreius told him. "You are not expendable. Your troops, however, are."_

_"No one is expendable!" Edmund snapped, distressed at the thought that he might, someday, make a choice that would sacrifice one of those who served him._

_"If only that were true," Oreius said._

Looking back, Edmund found himself finally understanding what Oreius had been talking about. Auric would sacrifice himself for his Prince, for the future of Narnia. And if Edmund interfered, he'd make that sacrifice worthless.

"Forgive me," Auric repeated, a second before he lunged at the Witch.

She swung her wand, meeting him in midair. He turned immediately to stone, and Edmund lunged to catch him as he fell. He cradled the stone Fox to his chest for a moment, tears spilling silently down his cheeks. Then, he gently laid Auric's body on the ground, before whirling to face the Witch.

"Is this your plan?" he snapped, recklessly. "Kill everyone in Narnia until I give in? Well, it won't work."

"Then how about this?" the Witch said. "Tell me where Aslan's camp is, and I will let you and your siblings leave Narnia, unharmed. Refuse, and my Wolves will tear them apart so savagely that they'll be nothing more than piles of carrion for the vultures."

_"I am always with you, Edmund. As I am with your family."_

Aslan's words rang in his ears, his heart telling him to believe. But, how could he let her threaten his family?

When he hesitated, she turned to the Wolves.

"Save the littlest for last," she commanded. "In fact, leave enough life in her body that the Prince can watch her die."

"WAIT!" Edmund yelled, the desperate cry bursting from his lips with a shocking force. "Wait," he repeated, a sob choking him.

"You will tell me where Aslan's camp is?" the Witch asked.

Edmund nodded miserably, hating himself with every second that passed.

_'I've betrayed my people. I'm killing them all,'_ he thought. _'But I can't let her kill Peter, Susan, and Lucy. I have to save them.'_

"Well?" the Witch prompted, when he hesitated.

"The Stone Table," he whispered, at last. "Aslan's camp is at the Stone Table."

"Very good," the Witch said. Turning to Maugrim, she ordered, "We make for the Stone Table. Find the humans and kill them."

"NO!" Edmund screamed, lunging at her. She casually backhanded him, and he fell to the ground, bleeding.

"You lied to me," he said, hoarsely.

"So I did," the Witch said, carelessly.

At her gesture, the Wolves sprang away, and Edmund stared after them in horror. The crushing reality of what he'd done hit him, suddenly.

_'I've betrayed them all.'_


	7. Edmund's Rescue

**Chapter Seven: Edmund's Rescue**

_'Now, I've gone and done it,'_ Edmund thought, despondently. _'She's going to kill Peter, Susan, and Lucy--she's going to kill everyone, and it's all my fault. I should never have betrayed them. I should have known she'd never keep her word.'_

Huddled miserably on the floor of the Witch's sledge, he watched as the scenery flashed by. Although it wasn't going by as fast as before, because the sledge couldn't travel well over the rough ground that was quickly becoming more abundant than the snow it was built for.

The runners kept catching on rocks, twigs, and the like, sending the sledge bouncing roughly along the ground every time. Every little jolt meant a new burst of agony, as Edmund's wounds sang. A particularly rough bump jostled him so that his shirt, which had become glued to his back as the blood from Magrim's wounds dried, ripped loose. He clenched his jaw to keep from screaming, but it was a close thing.

And then, suddenly, the sledge stopped.

Ginarrbrik cruelly whipped the Reindeer, but, though they pulled their hardest, the sledge remained stuck in the mud that had mired it.

"It's no use, Your Majesty," Ginarrbrik said, at last. "They can't pull it free."

"Then, you'd best get out and push, hadn't you?" the Witch asked, although it was clear that it was no question.

"Don't just sit there!" the Witch snapped, kicking Edmund in the ribs when he didn't get out when the Dwarf did. "Get out and push!"

Moving slowly, painfully, Edmund climbed out of the sledge and took a position on one side of the sledge. Bracing himself as best he could in the muck, he set his shoulder against the sledge and pushed as hard as he could, to try and lever it out of the mud.

Between his and Ginarrbrik's efforts, the sledge rocked back and forth, but otherwise didn't move. Of course, it didn't help that the Witch was still sitting inside.

"Well?" she demanded, shrilly.

"This thing isn't meant to run on mud," Edmund muttered, stifling a cry when Ginarrbrik's whip dug sharply into his back, inflaming the wounds already there.

"The human has a point, Your Majesty," the Dwarf said. "We won't be able to get it out."

"Then we'll have to walk, won't we?" the Witch said, loftily. "Cut the Reindeer free; they can find their way back the castle."

"You heard the Queen," Ginarrbrik growled, shoving Edmund forward. "Free the beasts."

His fingers swollen and clumsy, Edmund slowly unbuckled the Reindeer's harness. On the pretense of needed a closer look at a strap, he leaned in.

"Fly to Aslan, my friends," he whispered. "Someone must warn Him."

Finishing the job, he stepped back as the lead stag shook his massive head. Then, he bounded off, his herd mates following close behind. Watching them enviously, he winced when Ginarrbrik grabbed his arms and roughly forced them behind his back. His hands were bound tightly behind his back, and then he was forced forward, in a stumbling march, following the Witch to a destination only she knew.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

"It's getting warmer all the time," Susan said, amazed, as they continued their trek across a meadow in spring. "It's hard to believe that we were walking in snow only a few minutes ago."

"You said you were cold," Lucy reminded her, and Susan flashed back on her conversation with Peter that had necessitated that comment in the first place.

_'Please, just let Edmund be all right,'_ she prayed.

"Worried?" Peter asked her, quietly, startling her.

"Of course I am," she hissed, softly, making sure Lucy didn't hear her. "The Witch has Edmund, and is doing God only knows what to him."

"I'm scared, too," Peter admitted. "I keep thinking that if I hadn't been so nasty to Edmund, earlier, he never would have left the Beaver's Dam, and he never would have gotten captured."

"We were both hard on him," Susan said, knowing that if she didn't say something, he'd take all the blame in true Peter fashion.

Lucy's sudden gasp interrupted whatever reply he was about to make. Looking, they saw a beautiful woman with bark for skin smiling at them.

"Welcome, Your Majesties," the Dryad said, her voice sounding like wind rustling through branches. "Come this way, please."

She led the way through the camp, various creatures looking curiously at them as they passed.

"Why are they all staring at us?" Susan asked.

"Maybe they think you look funny," Lucy teased her.

"Oh, stop fussing, you look lovely" Beaver chided her at the same time, and Susan stopped fiddling nervously with the hem of her shirt.

"They simply wish to see the saviors of Narnia," the Dryad said. "Ah, here we are. Do not be alarmed."

"Why would we be alarmed?" Peter asked, but got his answer a second later, when he caught sight of the large Centaur standing guard before a large tent.

Acting on instinct, Peter drew his sword and held it before him in a salute.

"We've come to see Aslan," he said.

Suddenly, everyone around them began bowing, as the tent flaps rustled. A magnificent Lion stepped out, and Peter dropped to his knees, with Susan and Lucy following a second later.

"Welcome, Peter, Son of Adam. Welcome, Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve," Aslan said, warmly. Welcome Beavers, you have my thanks. But where is the fourth?"

"The Witch has him," Peter told him.

"He's betrayed them!" Beaver protested, hotly.

"Then he's betrayed us all!" an unseen voice yelled.

A Horse's furious scream shattered the silence that had followed that pronouncement, and Peter looked to see a stallion rearing in challenge to a Centaur, who was backing away nervously.

"Peace, Philip," Aslan said, as the Horse settled back on the ground. "I'm sure there's an explanation."

"Edmund is not a traitor," Philip declared, angrily, his eyes burning as he glared at Beaver.

Without another word, he whirled and galloped away, his hoof beats fading quickly into the distance.

"We don't know that he's betrayed us, sir," Susan spoke up, quickly, shooting Beaver a look of her own. "We met a Fox who told us that Edmund had sent him to warn us about the Wolves."

"You sent Auric to that area to gather troops," the first Centaur said. "It's possible he had run into Edmund."

"But why would he leave Beaver's Dam in the first place?" Aslan asked.

"It's my fault, sir," Peter said. "I was too hard on him."

"We all were," Susan added.

"Sir, he's our brother!" Lucy protested.

"All will be done to rescue Edmund, dear one," Aslan told her. "But it may be harder than you think."

The rest of his words were cut off by the sudden arrival of a trio of snow-white Reindeer. They stood, exhausted, in the middle of the camp, blowing hard from exertion. One of the Reindeer, his head hanging very low, had one of the Dwarf sentries perched awkwardly on his back.

"Let me down!" the Dwarf trilled, his voice loud in the sudden stillness that had fallen over those assembled.

The Reindeer swing his head around, suddenly, and for a moment, it seemed like he meant to run the Dwarf through. But he simply waited until the Dwarf had gripped his powerful antlers before he swung his head down, lowering the Dwarf carefully to the ground.

"My apologies," the Reindeer said. "But we were in a hurry. We bear disturbing news for Aslan, and for the future Monarchs of Narnia."

"What is your news?" Aslan asked.

"The White Witch knows of your location at the Stone Table," another Reindeer said. "She means to wage war against you."

"And how do you know this?" Aslan asked. "Oreius, are these your spies?"

"We are no spies, but slaves," the third Reindeer stated, even as the Centaur answered in the negative.

"The Witch cut us loose, expecting that we would return willingly to her castle," the first Reindeer snorted, derisively. "As if we would be such fools."

"If you were with her," Peter ventured, "did you see another human with her?"

"He is the one who bade us come here with all haste," the Reindeer answered.

"Was he all right?" Susan cried.

"He is alive," the Reindeer said, cautiously. "I know not by how you humans measure health."

"Tell me where you last saw the Witch," Aslan commanded, before anyone could say anything else. "So that we may plan a rescue."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Philip was still fuming as he stood in the middle of the meadow, his sides heaving from his quick flight through the camp. He didn't even look at Oreius as the Centaur approached him.

"Glorian is young," Oreius said, as he stood beside him.

"He's an idiot," Philip stated, flatly.

"And the young are prone to mistakes and misunderstandings," Oreius finished, calmly. "You were young, once."

"I was never that incredibly stupid," Philip said, savagely.

"You didn't attack Beaver for calling Edmund a traitor," Oreius observed.

"He doesn't know Edmund," Philip said. "Glorian doesn't have that excuse."

"Glorian didn't know Edmund very well," Oreius said. "I don't think they spoke more than twice in all the time Edmund was here."

"Edmund would never betray us," Philip continued, angrily. "He would sooner die first."

"He's not dead, Philip," Oreius said, quietly, finally understanding what was really eating at the stallion.

"We don't know that," Philip replied, the anger in his tone replaced with pain. "The Witch-"

"Would have prominently displayed his body, had she killed him, in order to taunt Aslan," Oreius told him, firmly. "She's likely holding him, in order to lure Aslan, or the other children. He lives so long as she deems him useful."

"And when he no longer has a purpose?" Philip asked, bitterness creeping into his voice.

"We'll rescue him before it comes to that," Oreius vowed. "I, too, consider the young King a friend, Philip."

"I know," Philip said, quietly. After a few moments of companionable silence between the two warriors, he asked, "Have Their Majesties begun settling in?"

"The older Queen said something about a bath, and dragged the younger one with her to the river," Oreius told him. "King Peter is with Aslan."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter stood with Aslan on a rocky outcropping that overlooked the sea. Across the glistening waters, he saw a beautiful castle.

"That is Cair Paravel, of the four thrones," Aslan told him. "In one of which you must sit as High King. You doubt the prophecy?" he asked, when Peter said nothing.

"No," Peter said softly, "that's just it. Aslan, I'm not who you think I am."

"Peter Pevensie, formerly of Finchley," Aslan said, surprising him. "Beaver also said that you planned to turn him into a hat."

He chuckled at that, and Peter smiled, slightly.

"Peter, there is a Deep Magic, more powerful than any of us, which rules over all of Narnia," Aslan continued. "It defines right from wrong, and fulfills all our destinies, both yours and mine."

Peter went silent as he thought about this.

"I couldn't even protect my family," he said, a moment later, his voice somber.

"You have brought them this far," Aslan said.

"Not all of them," Peter reminded him, bitterly.

"Your brother is strong," Aslan told him. "Have faith that he will be all right."

"How could you know?" Peter burst out suddenly. There was nothing but silence from Aslan.

"Sorry," he muttered, as his own words reached his ears, and he realized how disrespectful he must have sounded.

"Do you know nothing of your brother's time in Narnia?" Aslan asked.

"Do you mean when he came with Lucy?" Peter asked.

"I mean the time before that," Aslan said. "He did not tell you that he came here, that he stayed for five years?"

"Five years?" Peter asked, incredulously. "But that's not possible. Surely we would have noticed that he was gone."

"Time passes differently here than in your world," Aslan replied. "Edmund spent five years here, and returned to your world without any time passing."

"Is that why so many here seem to know him?" Peter asked, as several pieces of the puzzle slowly clicked into place.

"That is why," Aslan said. "There are many here who have sworn an allegiance to your brother, and serve him faithfully."

"Like that Fox," Peter said, as he remembered Auric's fierce protectiveness, and how quick he was to leap to Edmund's defense.

"Auric is one of many," Aslan said. "And he will not likely be the last. Your brother has a knack for inspiring loyalty."

"I will do everything I can to rescue Edmund," he continued. "I, too, want my family back."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

"You look like Mum," Lucy said, watching as Susan combed out her long, dark hair.

"Mum hasn't had a dress like this since before the war," Susan replied, indicating the long, forest-green gown that she'd been given.

She couldn't imagine where the dress could have come from, or Lucy's, for that matter, since there weren't any other humans in Narnia, but all the Centaur who gave them to her would say was that Queen Helen had kept her clothes safe for the Queens who would come after her.

_'I'm really going to have to find out who this Queen Helen was,'_ she thought.

"We should bring Mum back a dress when we go home," Lucy said, excitedly, interrupting Susan's woolgathering. "A whole trunk full."

"If we ever go home," Susan muttered. Seeing the look on her sister's face, she relented.

"I'm sorry I'm like that," she apologized. "We used to have fun, together, didn't we?"

"Yes," Lucy answered. "Before you got boring."

"Oh, really?" Susan asked, archly.

Skimming her fingers through the water, she suddenly scooped a handful, splashing Lucy. Lucy gasped, laughing, and quickly retaliated. For the next couple of minutes, they played in the shallow part of the river, not caring how wet they got. Finally, Susan called a truce and went to grab her towel.

She snagged it off the tree branch it was hanging from, and found herself face-to-face with a Wolf.

"Please don't run," Maugrim said. "We're tired and would prefer to kill you quickly."

Acting quickly, Susan flung her sodden towel at the Wolf, and lunged for where she'd left her bow and quiver. Sensing the Wolf behind her, she had no time to grab the bow, but instead clutched her horn as she scrambled to her feet and started to run.

Grabbing Lucy around the waist, she summoned a strength she didn't even know she had, and threw her little sister into the branches of a tree. Climbing quickly up after her, she hooked her arm around the trunk and blew three short blasts, praying that Father Christmas would be right about help coming.

The Wolves had circled the tree, and one had just lunged for her dangling foot when crashing was heard in the bushes. Maugrim turned to confront this new threat, but Susan witnessed the other one darting across the river to hide in the bushes growing on the other bank.

Suddenly, Peter burst into the clearing, his sword drawn. Aslan and others were right behind him.

"Peter!" Lucy cried, joyfully.

"Watch out," Susan pleaded, as he and Maugrim began to circle one another.

"Get back," Peter said, keeping his sword leveled at the Wolf.

"We've been through this already," Maugrim sneered. "We both know you haven't got it in you."

"Stay your weapons," Aslan said, when Oreius made to move forward. "This is Peter's battle."

"You may think you're a king," Maugrim continued, ignoring everything but Peter. "But you're going to die like a dog!"

The Wolf made several feints that Peter countered with his sword, keeping a wary eye on the Wolf's every movement. Maugrim circled Peter, his eyes never leaving the boy, and taking a chance, Peter dared a quick lunge forward that grazed the tip of his sword alongside Maugrim's side. The Wolf backed away, growling low in the back of his throat, and then his eyes flickered over Peter's shoulder, to the tree where Susan and Lucy were still hiding. A triumphant look came over the Witch's face, and Peter turned, horrified, to look at his sisters. That was when Maugrim made his move.

Snarling, he lunged at Peter, who barely got his sword up before the Wolf was on him. A scream tore from Susan's throat as she watched them fall heavily to the earth. For a moment, neither moved, and then Peter gave a mighty heave, shoving Maugrim's lifeless body off of him. He pulled his sword out of the Wolf's chest, and stared uneasily at the blood staining the blade. Then, Susan and Lucy ran to him, hugging him tightly, taking his mind off what he'd done.

Suddenly, everyone's attention was caught by a flash of gray on the far side of the river.

"There's another one!" Oreius cried.

"After him!" Aslan commanded. "He'll take you to Edmund!"

Orieus, and the group around him, bounded after the fleeing Wolf as Aslan turned his attention back to Peter.

"Clean your blade," he prompted.

Peter wiped the sword hastily on the grass, before sliding it back into the sheath. Aslan placed a heavy paw on his shoulder, and Peter bowed his head.

"Your sword is Rhindon," Aslan intoned, solemnly. "Bear it well, Peter."

"I will," Peter promised, feeling the weight of the words settle on him.

"Then arise, Sir Peter Wolfs-bane," Aslan commanded. "Knight of Narnia."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund found himself bound and gagged, tied to tree in the center of the Witch's encampment. He was starving, his last meal having been breakfast that last morning at the Professor's house. He felt weak and dizzy. His whole being was awash in pain, and he felt himself fading in and out of consciousness. He fought the blackness, though, in order to hear what the Witch was talking about.

"And what if only three were filled?" the Witch mused. "That would not fulfill the prophecy."

"It might be better to save this one for bargaining, rather than killing him," Ginarrbrik ventured, quietly.

"And have him be rescued?" the Witch sneered. "No, I want to sacrifice this one on the Stone Table."

"It might be long before the Stone Table is put again to its proper use," Ginarrbrik told her. "It might be best to do it here, before anyone comes looking for the human."

"True enough," the Witch said, but she was suddenly interrupted.

"If it pleases Your Majesty," a quiet voice said, and Edmund jerked in shock to hear Bertran, "we, your police, could create a distraction to draw Aslan's forces away from the Stone Table. Then, you could sacrifice the human as you wish. We need only to wait until Maugrim returns to carry it out."

"Do so," the Witch said, sounding pleased. "You are in charge of guarding the boy while I go over battle plans."

Whirling, she stalked away, taking her General, Otmin, with her. Ginarrbrik moved toward Edmund, his whip in hand, but Bertran stepped between them.

"I believe the Queen bade me to watch the prisoner," he said, in his deceptively quiet voice. "Don't you have a latrine to dig, or something?"

Before Ginarrbrik could reply, a Wolf crashed, panting, through the underbrush.

"Maugrim is dead," he panted. "The other Son of Adam has killed him!"

Bertran jerked as though he'd been struck.

"Impossible," he whispered, denial plain in his voice.

"I saw it!" the Wolf cried. "I was there!"

"And you led them here?" Vardan growled, turning furiously on the newcomer.

"I wasn't followed!" the Wolf cried, defensively.

"Idiot! Of course you were followed. They'll come to rescue this one!" Vardan told him.

As if in answer, they heard a distant crashing sound. Acting quickly, Bertran lunged forward, his teeth snapping through the bonds tying Edmund to the tree. Edmund ripped the gag from his mouth and grabbed a fallen tree branch for a weapon. Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he stood defensively, the Wolf guarding his back as the Witch's followers moved in on them.

"I should have known you were a traitor," Vardan growled, disgustedly, as he glared at Bertran.

"You can't betray that which you've never served," Bertran responded.

The crashing sound grew louder, and suddenly chaos burst into the camp. Philip, screaming in fury, slid to a stop beside Edmund, who scrambled awkwardly on his back.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," he confessed.

"Greetings later," Oreius said, handing Edmund one of the swords he wore. "I trust you still remember how to wield this?"

Edmund nodded, wordlessly, as Philip charged into the thick of battle, using his hooves to a deadly advantage. Quickly adjusting his grip to compensate for the weight of the sword, Edmund swung at an unkempt Dwarf lunging at Philip's flanks. The sickening sound of metal on bone and flesh had him wincing, but he had no time to dwell on it.

Philip reared, bringing his hooves down on top of a Wolf, simply crushing the smaller Beast with his greater weight. Dancing backward quickly, he swung around until he was back-to-back with Orieus, protecting the Centaur's flanks from attack and gaining a shield in return.

Edmund slashed at a Bobcat who hurled itself out of a tree, and then had to quickly switch to a two-handed grip before he lost the grip he had on Orieus's broadsword. Recognizing the signs of utter exhaustion that threatened to lay him out, he gripped Philip's sides more tightly to stay on the Horse's back.

The battle was over quickly, and all of the Witch's forces lay dead or incapacitated save Vardan and Bertran, who were circling each other warily.

"Come back now," Vardan said to the younger Wolf, "and there will be no consequences for your treachery."

"That's why you'll never last as pack leader," Bertran said in disgust. "You're not ruthless enough. Maugrim would have ripped my throat out for even daring to betray him. You'll never be half the leader he was."

So saying, Bertran lunged, catching Vardan by surprise. There was a scuffle, and flying fur, and when it was over, Bertran stood, snarling, over Vardan's corpse. True to his word, he'd ripped the other Wolf's throat out.

One of the Centaurs stepped forward, but stopped at the deadly snarl Bertran directed his way. The Wolf looked up, and there was nothing sane in his eyes.

"Bertran," Edmund said, softly.

The Wolf glanced his way, and Edmund locked gazes with him, refusing to look away from the bloodlust he saw there.

"He's dead. Leave him," he ordered.

For a moment, it looked like Bertran would refuse, but then the strength of his vows took over. Without a word, Bertran stalked, stiff-legged, over to where Edmund was. Edmund noticed his limp, but decided not to mention it yet. A moment later, Oreius cantered back into the copse of trees.

"What of this one, Your Majesty?" he asked, holding a struggling Ginarrbrik in his fist. "Should we bring him with us?"

Looking at the Dwarf, Edmund felt himself overcome with hatred. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for Ginarrbrik to suffer as he had throughout the past day and half. He wanted the vile creature to hurt like he'd been hurt. And that knowledge sickened him.

_'This isn't me,'_ he thought. _'If I hurt him out of revenge it makes me no better than the Witch. I've hurt everyone enough; I won't compound it by becoming like her.'_

"We have no place for prisoners," he said, finally.

"Leave him to the Witch!" a voice yelled. "He served her, now he can die by her!"

"She'll kill me if you leave me here," Ginarrbrik wheedled, noisily.

Then, his voice cut off, abruptly, as Edmund placed the point of his sword lightly against the hollow of the Dwarf's throat.

"She won't kill you when there are so few left who are truly loyal to her," Edmund informed him. "I was merciful today; come after my siblings, again, and I won't be."

He nodded briskly to Oreius, who picked up the length of rope that had bound Edmund, and used it to secure Ginarrbrik to the same tree. Grabbing the Dwarf's knife from his belt, Oreius drove it into the tree, pinning his hat so that it rested, mockingly, just above his head.

Then, the rescue party cantered away, leaving the Dwarf to await the Witch's arrival.


	8. Faith Enough For All

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You're all incredible.**

**Chapter Eight: Faith Enough For All **

As they rode back to Aslan's camp, Edmund turned to Oreius.

"How long have I been gone?" he asked.

"About six months," Oreius told him.

"Have we lost anyone?" he continued.

"Two," Philip answered, heavily. "Ceryl and Gol, about three months ago."

He didn't say any more, but he didn't have to. Edmund had known both Centaurs, personally. He'd been the one to send them on their reconnaissance missions, the ones that had apparently gotten them killed. He closed his eyes, succumbing to a moment's regret for the fallen, before putting it out of his mind.

As much as he would have wanted to give in, completely, to the grief that plagued him, he knew that doing so would hinder him, and could only get more killed. And the thought of death summoned forth the question he dreaded asking.

"My siblings," he ventured, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer, "are they all right?"

"They're safe," Oreius reassured him. "They await your arrival at the camp."

"Thank the Lion," Edmund breathed, as the anxiety that had weighed heavily on him ever since his capture eased.

"We received your messengers," Oreius continued. "They've warned us about the Witch's knowledge of the Stone Table."

"She'll likely be going there, next," Bertran spoke up, as he trotted between Oreius and Philip. "She won't dare pursue us, herself. Not with how many she's suddenly lost."

"Are you limping?" Philip asked, looking down at the Wolf, who suddenly shortened his stride to make the injury less noticeable.

"Yes, he's limping," Edmund said. "And you're going straight to Shanza when we get to camp."

"I'm fine," Bertran protested.

"You're going," Edmund repeated, his tone indicating that there would be no argument.

"Everyone who is injured will report to the Healer," he added, raising his voice, so that the entire rescue party could hear him. "No exceptions."

There was some grumbling, but Edmund had anticipated this. For some reason, the warriors in camp were less likely to seek Shanza's aid, even when they were the ones who needed it the most.

_'Must be an ego thing,'_ Edmund mused.

"Since you said, no exceptions, does that mean you will be first in line, to set a good example?"

Oreius's sudden words startled Edmund so badly that he jerked in surprise and nearly fell off Philip's back. The stallion danced anxiously to keep him on, as Oreius grabbed the back of his shirt collar to hold him on Philip's back. They stopped, letting the rest of the party go on ahead, as Edmund regained his balance and his composure.

Philip and Oreius exchanged worried looks. Edmund had been a capable rider when he came to Narnia, and had improved greatly over the years, to the point where nothing could get him off Philip's back if he didn't want off. Philip couldn't even throw him off. This loss of balance, more than anything, was a striking indication of how badly hurt Edmund was.

"I'll be going to see Shanza," Edmund told them. "But I won't be the first. I need to speak with Aslan, first."

"Does this have anything to do with your betrayal?" Oreius asked, softly, and Edmund stared at him in shock, and growing horror.

"Beaver claimed that you sold your siblings out to the Witch," Philip told him. "The Reindeer told us you had no choice but to betray Aslan."

"I didn't," Edmund admitted. "She would have killed them, if I hadn't. But it doesn't excuse what I've done."

"I'm sure Aslan will understand," Philip began.

"I betrayed him, willingly, I lost my faith, and now I must live with the consequences," Edmund replied. "Whatever they may be."

There was nothing more to be said to that, so they simply rode up with the rest of the group. The rescue party reached the camp just as a new day was dawning over Narnia. The Dwarf on sentry duty snapped to attention when he saw them, giving a quick salute to Edmund and Oreius, who returned it with their own.

"Quiet night, Trimpkin?" Oreius asked.

"Quiet so far, sir," Trimpkin said. "Those blasted Reindeer have even been helpful."

Then, he turned to Edmund, beaming.

"It's good to have you back, Majesty," he said. "Camp's been too quiet without you."

"It's good to be back," Edmund replied. "Good watch, Trimpkin."

"What does Trimpkin have against the Reindeer?" Edmund asked, in an undertone, as they rode off.

Philip chuckled.

"The Reindeer were in a hurry to reach us," he said, "and when Trimpkin didn't get out of the way fast enough, one of them simply scooped him up with his antlers and dumped him on his back."

"Trimpkin was disconcerted by the experience, to say the least," Oreius added, and Edmund grinned at the sudden image that formed in his mind.

With that, the rescue party continued on to camp, relaxing the tight pattern they'd formed around Edmund, to protect him as they fled from the Witch. Reaching the middle of the camp, Edmund swung down off Philip's back, to find himself suddenly mobbed by what seemed to be the whole camp.

Leaning on Philip a few seconds longer than necessary, Edmund tried to stop the shaking in his legs that had started the instant he hit the ground. To gain some time, he looked around, his gaze landing on Bertran, who was making no move toward the Healer's tent.

"Make sure he sees Shanza, will you?" he asked Oreius, who nodded.

Without a word, the Centaur moved silently over to the unsuspecting Wolf and, without warning, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, hauled him up into the air, and started towards Shanza's tent.

"Hey!" Bertran yelped, indignantly. "Put me down, you overgrown pony! This instant!"

"I dare not disobey my King," Oreius said, and Edmund could hear the laughter trying to escape the solemn words.

"You'll pay for this, Edmund," Bertran vowed, his voice growing faint as he disappeared into Shanza's tent with Oreius.

"That was rather nasty of you," Philip commented. "And rather amusing."

Edmund smiled, turning at last to face those who'd come out to see him. For the next several minutes he greeted the overjoyed Beasts and other Creatures, reassuring them that he really was all right.

Most had something to say to him, mainly along the lines of "Thank Aslan you're alive!" Or, the ever-popular, "We told Beaver that he was wrong."

Edmund wondered what they'd think of him once the truth was known, for he had no intentions of hiding his actions.

In the midst of all this, he looked up, and found himself staring at Peter.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

A loud noise woke Peter from a sound sleep, and he jerked to attention, his hand going automatically to his sword, which he'd laid near his pillow, for easy access. Standing, he quickly buckled the scabbard around his waist and left the tent.

He looked quickly over at the girls' tent to reassure himself that the commotion wasn't to do with them, and then spotted the crowd. A large group of Creatures was gathered in a tight knot around something he couldn't quite see. Moving quickly, he went to investigate. He'd gotten only a few feet away when the crowd parted, giving him a good look at the one they were so focused on. And his heart gave a wild thump.

_Edmund._

His baby brother stood there, smiling at the various Creatures surrounding him as they crowded closer, touching him, as though they needed tangible reassurance that he was all right. The kind that Peter himself needed.

The chestnut stallion that had been so angry the day before was standing the closest, his head resting on Edmund's shoulder. The stallion shifted, and Peter was amazed at the fierce protectiveness he saw in those brown eyes. Dimly, he recalled Aslan's comment about Edmund's ability to inspire loyalty.

Then Edmund looked up at him.

They locked gazes for a long second, an eternity, it seemed. Then, Edmund started walking toward him, slowly, ignoring everyone else around him. He stopped before his brother and held his arms out at his sides as though to say, _'Well?'_

Peter's heart skipped another beat as he took in Edmund's appearance. Up close, Edmund looked like he'd been through one of the concentration camps everyone back home had been talking about. He was bruised and cut, his skin a sickly gray color. But it was his eyes that scared Peter the most.

No longer did they hold the promise of mischief. Instead, ghosts flitted across his face as those ancient, haunted eyes stared at him, piercing his barriers and delving deep into his soul.

_'What have they done to you, Ed?'_ Peter thought, agonized. _'How did they steal your laughter?'_

But he said none of this. Instead, he simply gazed at his baby brother for a few seconds longer.

"You're alive," he said, at last, surprised at the tears that choked his words in his throat.

"I'm alive," Edmund echoed.

The brothers stood, facing one another, neither one moving.

_'Hug him, you idiot!' _Peter thought at himself, angrily.

But for some reason, he couldn't make himself move. Finally, Edmund took a step toward him.

"Peter," he began, hesitantly, but his voice trailed off as he caught sight of something over his brother's shoulder.

Peter turned, following Edmund's gaze, and saw Aslan sitting on the same outcropping overlooking the sea that he'd stood on the day before. He looked down at the brothers, and there was an unmistakable summons in his eyes. Swallowing hard, Edmund nodded, surprising Peter.

"He wants to talk to me," he said.

"Ed-" Peter began, but stopped, simply shaking his head, helplessly, when Edmund looked back at him questioningly.

_Thank God you're all right. How could you scare us like that? Don't ever leave…_

There was so much he wanted to say to Edmund; the list went on and on. And he couldn't get a word of it past his lips. So, he just shook his head again, frustrated. And Edmund turned away, continuing his solitary trek to face Aslan.

"He will be all right," a voice said from behind Peter, and he turned to see Oreius standing behind him, staring up at Edmund and Aslan.

"He doesn't look all right," Peter said, never taking his eyes off his brother.

"Have faith in Aslan," Orieus told him.

"I do," Peter said, immediately, not even having to think about his answer.

"I understand Aslan named you a knight of Narnia," Orieus said, in an attempt to take Peter's mind off Edmund.

"He named me Wolfs-bane," Peter said, finally looking over at Orieus. "And he called my sword Rhindon."

"That is a great honor," Orieus told him, "to have your sword given a name, especially by Aslan, himself."

"Why now?" Peter asked, curiously. "Father Christmas never said anything about my sword having a name."

"A sword cannot earn a name until its wielder has been proven in fair battle," Orieus said. "Your battle with Maugrim was your testing ground."

"Has Edmund ever had to take a life?" Peter asked, his heart sinking when Orieus nodded.

"Your brother is a strong, capable swordsman," Orieus said. "He has proven himself in battle against the Witch's forces often throughout the years."

"I feel like I failed him," Peter said, quietly. "I'm the oldest; I'm supposed to protect Edmund from things like this. From having to kill."

His voice cracked on the last word, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Edmund wished for many things throughout his time in Narnia," Orieus said, as Peter was quiet. "But most of all, he wanted to make you proud of him."

The Centaur nodded when Peter shot him a shocked look.

"You and your sisters have been in Edmund's thoughts ever since his first day in Narnia," Orieus told him. "You three are the source of his strength."

Peter swallowed hard, looking back up at Edmund.

"That's a lot to live up to," he said, softly.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund reached the outcropping to find the Lion sitting with his back to him.

"Aslan, I'm sorry," he ventured.

"Son of Adam," Aslan asked, "why did you betray me?"

"I-" Edmund faltered, unsure of how to answer.

"Did you do it out of anger or greed?" Aslan continued. "Was it for power or revenge?"

"No!" Edmund burst out. "No," he repeated calming. "I would never-"

"Then, why?" Aslan asked, interrupting him as he turned to face him.

"The Witch said she'd kill Peter, Susan, and Lucy if I didn't tell her where you were," Edmund said, miserably. "And I couldn't let her. I just wanted to save them."

Trailing off, he stared at the ground, unable to meet the Lion's eyes.

"Perhaps, then, it was not such a bad thing," Aslan said, after a moment.

Edmund's head flew up as he stared at Aslan in amazement.

"But-" he protested. "But I betrayed you!"

"And, by your own admission, you did it to save the lives of those you cared about," Aslan reminded him.

"It didn't work, though," Edmund told him, bitterly. "She still sent Maugrim after them. And Peter had to-"

He broke off suddenly, not wanting to think of his siblings in danger, of Peter having to kill to defend himself and the girls.

"You did not know she would lie," Aslan said.

"I should have," Edmund replied. "I've been in Narnia long enough; I ought to know by now that the Witch can't be trusted."

"Are your siblings not safe?" Aslan asked.

"Oreius says they are," Edmund began, but he was cut off by a gleeful shout from below.

Looking down, he saw his siblings gathered where he and Peter had been earlier. His heart gave a wild leap as he saw them all standing there, unharmed. Lucy made as though to run toward him, but Peter quickly held her back, shaking his head.

"Edmund!" Lucy cried, happily, undaunted.

She waved, wildly, and Edmund felt a smile tug at his lips.

"Are your siblings not safe?" Aslan repeated.

"They are," Edmund said, feeling giddy with relief.

It was one thing to have Oreius tell him that they were all right; it was quite another to see it for himself. Until that moment, Edmund hadn't known how badly he'd needed to see them, to reassure himself that they hadn't been hurt.

"Your trust in the Witch's word may have been misplaced," Aslan told him, "but your faith in me was strong."

"But, it wasn't," Edmund whispered, as his true shame came to light. "You asked me to trust you, and I couldn't. I endangered everyone by believing the White Witch."

"Did you not believe that I would protect your family?" Aslan asked him, and Edmund hung his head.

"They were in danger," he said, softly. "I couldn't think of anything but making sure they were safe."

"Edmund," Aslan said, and the boy reluctantly looked up at the Lion. "Do you remember what I told you when you first came to Narnia?"

"The kindest hearts are those who consider others before themselves," Edmund quoted the Lion's words back at him.

"You did not do this for yourself, but for your family," Aslan reminded him. "It is time for you to make peace with your actions."

Edmund looked at him in surprise, and Aslan smiled.

"Go to your family," he said.

Remembering Peter's reticence earlier, Edmund walked slowly, somewhat reluctantly, towards his family.

_'What if they hate me?'_ he thought. _'For what they thought I did; for what I really did do?'_

But, he had no time to ponder the answers, as he reached them. They stood together, awkwardly, for a moment, and then Lucy launched herself at him, hugging him as tightly as she could. Edmund returned the embrace, burying his face in his sister's soft hair as tear of relief crept down his cheeks.

"Oh, Edmund," Lucy said, as she released him.

"We were worried," Susan finished for her, hugging him as well.

"Are you all right?" she continued, releasing him.

"I'm a little tired," Edmund fudged, unwilling to let them know just how badly off he really was.

"You should get some rest," Peter spoke up.

Edmund looked at his brother, but there was no expression on Peter's face. He may as well have been talking to a stranger, for all the concern he showed. Edmund's heart sank as he turned away, to go to the Healer's tent.

"Oh, and Edmund?" Peter called.

Edmund looked back, hopefully, and saw a glint of humor in Peter's eyes.

"Try not to wander off," he said, lightly.

Edmund smiled, hesitantly, and Peter returned the gesture. The next second, hatred and alarm flashed across his face, and he had pulled his sword out of the sheath.

_'What now?'_ Edmund thought, panicked, his hand going to a scabbard he no longer wore. _'What could have possibly snuck past the sentries?'_

But as he turned to confront this new danger, all he saw was Bertran, and for a moment, he was confused. Then, he remembered Peter's encounters with Wolves.

_'Damn it,'_ he thought. _'I've got to defuse this situation before someone gets hurt.'_

Before he could do anything, however, Bertran spoke.

"This," he growled, gesturing at the bandages that covered his chest and one leg, "is your fault."

"My fault?" Edmund asked, lightly, trying to keep between Peter and the Wolf.

"She _shaved_ me!" Bertran yowled, indignantly.

"I'm sure Shanza was just trying to determine the extent of your injuries," Edmund said, trying to stifle a smirk.

Bertran noticed, anyway, and scowled at him.

"It'll grow back," Edmund continued, which only made it worse.

"We'll see how funny it is when it's you who's bald," Bertran muttered, darkly.

"I don't have a head injury," Edmund told him.

"That can be remedied," Bertran said, pointedly, but the toothy grin that split his face took any sting out of the words.

Edmund just shook his head in exasperation.

"I can't believe you called Oreius an overgrown pony," he said. "You know he's going to make you pay for that."

"I'm not afraid of him," Bertran replied, smugly.

"He could kick you from here to Cair Paravel," Edmund pointed out, but the Wolf seemed unimpressed.

"You should go rest," Edmund told him. "You don't want Shanza yelling at you for moving when you're still healing."

Bertran nodded. "You should get up there, soon," he said, "before she decides to send Oreius after you."

He walked past Edmund, who turned to watch him go, and stopped in front of Peter, who had a baffled expression on his face.

"You are the one who slew Maugrim?" Bertran asked.

"That's right," Peter replied, cautiously.

He'd put his sword back into the sheath, but his hand still rested on the hilt, and now his fingers curled reflexively around it as he moved between the Wolf and his sisters. Bertran acknowledged his concern by backing up a step.

"You have great courage for one so young," he said, to Peter's surprise. "My brother is-"

Bertran stopped, closing his eyes in grief as anguish played over his features.

"Was," he corrected himself, softly. "My brother _was_ a fearsome creature."

"Bertran-" Edmund began, but the Wolf ignored him.

"You have great courage," he repeated, to Peter, before trotting off.

Edmund watched him go, worriedly. When Oreius joined them, he spoke without taking his eyes off Bertran.

"I don't want anyone talking about Maugrim," he said. "Bertran doesn't need to hear those things. Not right now."

"Of course, Majesty," Oreius said. "And, now, Shanza-"

"I'm going," Edmund muttered, irritably.

As he walked up to the Healer's tent, he heard a long, mournful wail coming from behind him. Turning, he saw Bertran standing on the outcropping, sounding out his heartbreak for all to hear.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter made his way up to his tent, ignoring the curious looks being shot his way. He tried telling himself that it was because he was human, but he realized that it probably had more to do with the fact that he was hobbling slowly along, grimacing with every step.

He ached everywhere; with bruises in places he didn't know he had. He felt like he'd been well and thoroughly beaten with a stick, which wasn't that far from the truth. And though he'd been assured by the Healer that his foot _probably_ wasn't broken after being trodden on by several hundred pounds of Centaur, he was far from being convinced.

Pushing the tent-flap aside, he saw, to his surprise, another cot against the far wall. Edmund was curled up on it, fast asleep. Moving quietly so as not to wake him, Peter eased himself onto his own cot and started to pull his boots off. Apparently that was a bad idea.

His gasp of pain sounded impossibly loud in the confines of the small tent, and it had Edmund rocketing out of a sound sleep and leaping up to confront whatever danger was upon them. Seeing only Peter, he relaxed, marginally, as he made his way across the tent.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Peter apologized.

"That's all right," Edmund replied, looking at Peter's foot.

Crouching, he grabbed Peter's ankle and, before Peter knew what was going on, had eased the boot off his injured foot. Peter went white with shock at the sudden blast of pain.

"By the Lion!" Edmund gasped, seeing the mottled purple bruises running from ankle to toes. "What did you do to yourself?"

"All I did was get stepped on," Peter replied, finding it necessary to defend himself.

"By what?" Edmund demanded. "A Giant?"

"A Centaur," Peter corrected, while he marveled at the idea of Giants in Narnia. "Oreius was teaching me sword fighting techniques."

"Oh," Edmund said, sitting down beside Peter on his cot. "Well, it can't be broken, or you'd never have been allowed to leave Shanza's tent on your own."

"She said it was just bruised," Peter said.

"Down to the bone, I'll bet," Edmund retorted. "Well, you've done better than I did my first time out."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"The first time I trained with Oreius," Edmund said, with a fond, wistful smile, "I managed to break my nose when my face collided with Philip's neck."

"Ouch," Peter said, sympathetically.

"I learned very quickly after that how to anticipate Philip's moves," Edmund said.

Peter smiled slightly in reply as he turned and really looked at Edmund. The bruises and whatnot from the morning were still there, although faded slightly. And the lost, haunted look in his eyes had faded as well, probably as a result of his talk with Aslan. Right now, he seemed more like his old self than he ever had.

But, he still wasn't the brother Peter knew. The Edmund he knew would have been frightened after so long a time with the Witch. He'd have been uncertain, unsure of his place among Aslan's followers, and he would have looked to his siblings--Peter, especially--for guidance.

The Edmund that sat beside him was none of those things. He moved with confidence and grace through the camp, at home in a place where his siblings were the outsiders. He had the respect and loyalty of everyone in the camp, even after they'd heard that he'd betrayed them.

_'Betrayed them to save our lives,'_ Peter thought, reminded of what first the Reindeer, and then Oreius, had told them.

But that was still a major change from the brother Peter had known.

For all intents and purposes, Edmund was a stranger.

Peter admitted to himself that wasn't the whole story. The truth of it was, Edmund had grown and matured so much during his first stay in Narnia, and Peter was afraid that Edmund didn't need him anymore. And that hurt far more than he cared to admit.

He'd told Susan and Lucy what Aslan had told him about Edmund, and they were as equally baffled as he was about how to approach their brother. They had no idea what he was like after five years in Narnia.

_'If he hadn't left Narnia,'_ Peter realized, suddenly, _'he'd be two years older than me!'_

"Penny for your thoughts," Edmund said suddenly, drawing him out of his melancholy state.

"Oh," Peter muttered. "I was, um, thinking about that Wolf," he stammered, seizing on the first thing that leapt to mind.

"Bertran," Edmund said, with understanding. "Peter, he's completely loyal to me, to Aslan. He doesn't serve the Witch, if that's what you're worried about."

"But apparently his brother did," Peter reminded him.

"Maugrim was only giving his loyalty to the only person who cared enough to save his life," Edmund told him.

At Peter's puzzled look, he elaborated.

"Bertran and Maugrim were born to a wild pack of Wolves, in a time when most had gone over in service to the Witch. Unfortunately, some thought that meant that all Wolves served Her, and that the only way to deal with it was to eradicate the packs. Bertran's was one of the last they slaughtered."

Peter gasped, involuntarily, and Edmund nodded, sadly.

"Maugrim was barely a year old at the time," he continued, "but he had enough presence of mind to grab Bertran, who was only a few months younger, and flee for their lives. They hid for several days, with Maugrim able to catch only enough to feed Bertran. They both would have slowly starved to death, if the Witch hadn't found them."

"That doesn't explain why he'd join Her," Peter insisted.

"He'd just witnessed the genocide of his family by a troop of Centaurs, who claimed their deeds in Aslan's name," Edmund told him. "And then the Witch came along, as Aslan's sworn enemy, and rescued him and his brother. According to Bertran, there was nothing he wouldn't have done for her, after that."

"So how did Bertran end up serving Aslan?" Peter asked, suspiciously.

"That's actually kind of ironic," Edmund said. "I found him freezing to death in the snow and brought him back to camp. He gave me his loyalty in return for saving his life."

"He's grieving," he continued, quietly. "He's just lost the sole remaining member of his family, and it's killing him."

_'Like we would be with you,'_ Peter wanted to say, but he still couldn't get the words out.

"I'm tired," Edmund said, a moment later. "Good night, Peter."

"Night," Peter murmured, watching him climb into bed.

Then, he blew out the candle and lay down, but couldn't sleep for the thoughts racing through his mind.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

_He was running through the woods, his pursuer getting closer with each step._

_Auric's body lay at his feet, sunlight rippling across the stone in a mocking imitation of life._

_Philip raced along the riverbank, Wolves in pursuit, as he clung desperately to the Horse's back._

_He was in the Witch's dungeon, shivering miserably; in her sledge, staring at Tumnus's stone form._

_Ginarrbrik's whip cut into his back, and he cried out in pain. The Witch slapped him, hard, and the blow drew blood._

_Then, he found himself standing in a field of snow, surrounded by death. As he walked, he came upon more and more. Philip, his throat torn out, his blood staining the snow. Oreius, his face contorted in pain and defiance, forever stone. Bertran, his teeth bared in rage, the Witch's staff through his heart. _

_And finally, Peter, Susan, and Lucy._

_His siblings lay in a tangled heap, their faces frozen in terror. He fell to his knees, helplessly, and touched Peter's hand._

_His brother was cold, so cold, and he wept, soundlessly, bitterly. He pressed a kiss to Susan's icy forehead, and looked at Lucy. His little sister's eyes stared at him, sightlessly, accusing him. _

_All around him, bodiless voices were growing in intensity._

_"All your fault," they mocked him. "Look what you've done."_

_"No!" he cried. "I didn't mean it; I'm sorry."_

_But the voices paid him no heed; they went on and on, until he could hear nothing else. Then, everything stopped. He looked up, hopefully, to see Lucy stand up and walk toward him. She smiled, and held her arms out so that he could see her broken body._

_"All your fault," she whispered. "Look what you've done."_

_"NO!" he screamed._

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter jerked awake, as a terrified scream filled the air. Lunging across the tent, he threw his arms around Edmund as his baby brother continued to scream, struggling wildly in his grip. Edmund's eyes were open wide with terror, blind to everything but his nightmares.

"Eddy, Eddy, shh, I'm here," Peter crooned, as he tried to calm Edmund.

"No," Edmund moaned, the sound breaking Peter's heart. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not here, you're safe," Peter continued, praying that he would be able to break through Edmund's intense fear. "You're safe, I promise. Shh, Eddy, I'm here."

Edmund took a deep breath, suddenly, and let it out in a shuddering sob as he slumped, weakly, in Peter's arms. He started crying, tears streaking down his cheeks as he shook with silent sobs. Peter drew him in closer, holding him tightly and rocking him, like Dad had done for both of them when they were younger. Finally, his tears dried up and the shuddering stopped.

"I'm sorry," Edmund whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Peter assured him, stroking his hair.

Instead of protesting the comforting measure like he usually would have done, Edmund leaned into the embrace. Peter simply tightened his grip, and then looked up in surprise as the tent flaps parted.

Susan and Lucy entered quietly, with Lucy crawling onto the cot with her brothers as Susan dragged Peter's cot over and pushed it up against Edmund's. Without words, the siblings sprawled themselves over the cots, making sure they had Edmund safely in the middle of their huddle.

"I'm sorry," Edmund repeated.

"Stop that," Susan said, crossly. "You're our brother, and we love you."

"Su's right," Lucy piped up, sleepily. "You're being silly if you don't know that."

"We love you," Peter repeated, before Edmund could say anything.

Edmund was silent for a long minute.

"I know," he said, softly. "I love you, too."

"So, go to sleep," Susan ordered. "We've probably got a long day ahead of us, tomorrow."

A light snore from Edmund was the only answer. His sisters followed him, but Peter resisted the urge and, long after they had fallen asleep, lay awake watching over his family.

**A/N2: Be nice to Edmund? But torturing him is so much fun. ******

**So, there wasn't much action, there, but I felt it was time for some sappy stuff. Lots and lots of sap, apparently. **

**As always, leave reviews. Reviews motivate me to write faster.**


	9. Promises and Practice

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I can't believe all the feedback I'm getting.**

**Chapter Nine: Promises and Practice**

Morning dawned, and Edmund awoke to find himself squished between his siblings. Peter and Susan lay on either side of him, sandwiching him in place on his cot, and Lucy lay sprawled over all of them.

For a moment, Edmund couldn't remember why they were all crowded around him, and then the events of the previous night came rushing back. The details of his nightmare burst in his mind in amazing clarity, and he had barely bolted out of bed and out of the tent, before getting sick.

He knelt in the grass a few yards away, shaking and retching, miserably, as the images played themselves over and over again. A second later, he felt a small hand rubbing his back in comforting circles. Turning, he saw Lucy kneeling beside him, and the sight of her, when compared to his nightmare, only made the twisting in his gut worse.

"Father Christmas gave me a cordial to heal injuries," she offered, returning his steady gaze. "Do you need it?"

Edmund shook his head, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet. Then, to his surprise, Lucy grasped his arm in her own, and dragged him up to his feet. He went along willingly as she then pulled him through camp, too shocked at this display of strength from his little sister.

Then, suddenly, they were standing on the outcropping overlooking the sea.

"What-" he croaked.

"It's nearly sunrise," Lucy informed him. "I want to see the sun come up over the water."

"It is a spectacular sight," he agreed, for he'd been up more than once to see it.

Lucy leaned against him, companionably, as they watched the brilliant orb take its place in the sky, scorching the sea with its fire as it rose.

_'Fire and water,'_ Edmund thought, idly, and then wondered why so simple a thought would make him so uneasy.

Then, the thought was chased away by Lucy's astonished gasp, when the sunlight struck Cair Paravel in the distance.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Edmund, isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"I wish Mr. Tumnus could see this," Lucy said, wistfully.

"Lucy," Edmund said, slowly. "When I was at the Witch's castle, I saw Tumnus."

"You did?" Lucy cried, eagerly. "Is he all right?"

Edmund shook his head, and Lucy's eyes filled up with tears.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding her as she buried her face in his chest. "We'll beat Her, Lucy, I swear it. We'll avenge Tumnus."

The quiet clop of hooves drew their attention, and Edmund instinctively stepped protectively in front of Lucy. Then, his face lit up when he recognized the Centaur coming towards them.

"Good morning, Majesties," Khyldaer said, joining them. "What brings you out here, so early?"

"Just the sunrise," Edmund said, and the Centaur nodded.

"You have forgotten our morning workout, then?" he asked.

"I haven't been gone that long!" Edmund exclaimed, defensively.

"We'll see," Khyldaer replied, handing him a padded staff.

"Those don't look much like weapons," Lucy observed, critically, as Edmund accepted the staff and swung it slowly through the air.

"They are not the weapons we would use on a battlefield, Majesty," Khyldaer told her. "They have been modified specifically for our practices."

"Everyone was tired of us waking them up, you mean," Edmund retorted. "That's also why we had to move our practice site further away from camp."

"Do you two do this every morning?" Lucy asked.

"Every morning for five years," Khyldaer told her. "Although, perhaps we should wait until later, when Philip is up," he added, looking critically at Edmund.

"Why would you want to wait?" Edmund began, than it hit him what Khyldaer was referring to.

He'd been to tired to notice earlier, and everyone else had been to tactful to bring it up, but, along with his age regression, he'd lost the eight inches of height he'd gained during his five years in Narnia. Khyldaer practically towered over him, now.

"We started sparring when I first came to Narnia," Edmund reminded him. "And I was this short, then."

"It's different, now," Khyldaer insisted. "You're recovering from severe injuries."

"I'll be fine," Edmund told him. "We'll just go slowly."

"No faster than half speed," Khyldaer said, "or we stop."

"Agreed," Edmund said. "Lucy, you need to stand over there."

He pointed to a spot well away from where he and Khyldaer were standing, and she obediently moved away from them. Edmund and Khyldaer stepped away from one another, bowed ritually, and began sparring.

They started out slow, their staffs thwacking together softly, rhythmically. They moved as they fought, their footsteps carelessly precise, like a well-rehearsed dance. As the tempo increased, Lucy leaned forward, watching eagerly.

Then, the spell was broken as Khyldaer's staff caught Edmund sharply on the side of the head, and Edmund's staff rammed Khyldaer in the ribs.

Both leapt away, nursing their injured areas and glaring at one another.

"You were supposed to duck," Khyldaer accused.

"I forgot," Edmund muttered. "I never used to have to duck."

"You haven't been this short in years," Khyldaer reminded him. "And you shouldn't have hit me."

"I didn't mean it," Edmund protested. "What are you laughing at?" he muttered, spotting Oreius standing nearby, grinning.

"Nothing," the Centaur lied, smirking slightly. "A breakfast has been laid out for you, if you're hungry, Majesties."

"I am, thank you," Lucy said, eagerly. She darted towards the tents, then stopped and looked back at her brother.

"Aren't you coming, Edmund?" she asked.

"I'll be there in a second, Lu," Edmund promised. "I just want to wait for the ringing in my ears to stop."

"Your ears wouldn't be ringing if you'd remembered to duck," Khyldaer told him.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter emerged from the tent, squinting in the bright sunlight, wondering why his siblings had let him sleep so long. Looking around for them, he spotted them sitting around a low table resting on a cloth spread out on the ground. Joining them, he watched Edmund finish off one piece of toast while reaching for another with his free hand.

"Narnia isn't going to run out of toast, Ed," Lucy giggled.

"I worked up an appetite," Edmund replied, hastily swallowing his mouthful of food.

"I'm sure they'll pack some for the journey back," Peter told them, sitting down.

"We're going home?" Susan asked, incredulously.

"You are," Peter replied. "I promised Mum I'd keep you three safe, but there's no reason why I can't stay and help."

"But they need us," Lucy protested. "All four of us."

"Lucy, it's too dangerous," Peter told her. "You almost drowned. Edmund was almost killed!"

_'Not to mention those nightmares that having him screaming bloody murder,'_ he thought.

"Which is why we have to stay," Edmund spoke up, and for one startled moment, Peter thought his brother had read his thoughts.

"I've seen what the Witch can do," Edmund continued, oblivious to Peter's surprise. "And I made a promise to everyone years ago that I would do everything in my power to stop it. I've already betrayed them once; I won't do it again."

"Not even for you," he added, looking directly at Peter.

"Well, I guess that settles it, then," Susan said, standing and dusting the crumbs off her hands.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked.

"To get some practice," Susan told him, brandishing her bow and quiver.

"Me too," Lucy said, jumping up and grabbing her dagger.

They went toward the practice fields, leaving the boys alone at the table. Peter turned, watching them go, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously when Bertran rose from where he'd been sleeping and padded silently after them.

"Would you relax?" Edmund asked, exasperatedly, correctly interpreting Peter's expression. "The archers keep their targets at the edge of camp, so that they don't have stray arrows flying around tents and people. Bertran is just going with them to keep an eye on things."

Peter took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as he turned back to Edmund.

"You know him better than I do," he responded. "If you say he's trustworthy, then I'll believe you. I haven't done enough of that, lately."

"Thank you," Edmund replied, clearly surprised.

"Majesties," a Faun interrupted them. "General Oreius is expecting you on the training field."

"Thank you," Peter told him, standing. "Ready, Ed?"

"I'll be there in a second," Edmund said, distractedly, as he caught sight of something behind Peter.

Peter turned, watching him walk over to a Fox, who looked up when Edmund called to it. Edmund crouched low as he spoke to the Fox, a somber look on his face. At one point, the Fox jerked back, pain evident on its face, and Peter could faintly hear Edmund's murmured, "I'm so sorry."

"Who is that?" Peter asked, as Edmund stood, watching the Fox walk away, and then started back towards them.

"That is Bandera, Auric's wife," the Faun told him.

"Auric's widow," Edmund corrected, heaviness in his voice. "The Witch-"

His voice broke off, as anger and grief played over his features, and Peter nodded, understandingly.

"The Witch killed him," he finished, softly. "She'll pay for it, Ed. He will be avenged."

Edmund looked up at him, surprised, and began chuckling softly.

"What's so funny?" Peter asked.

"I was telling Lucy the same thing this morning about Tumnus," he explained. "Maybe we're more alike than we think."

"Oreius did say yesterday that I seem to have your aptitude for fighting," Peter commented, as they walked to the armory tent.

"My aptitude started out with me trying to cut my own head off with my sword," Edmund said, dryly. "Or was that what he was referring to?"

"I did better than that," Peter told him. "And I didn't break my nose," he added, smirking.

"I'm beginning to regret telling you that," Edmund groaned, as they reached the armory tent.

He smiled at the Centaur who handed him his scabbard and sword, buckling it around his waist and unsheathing the sword, to test the heft in his hand.

"This is a good blade," he said, approvingly.

"I started working on it the day you left camp to retrieve your siblings," the Centaur told him. "I know it's no Edaen, but it's better than no blade at all."

"Edaen?" Peter asked, quizzically.

"My first sword," Edmund said, with a fond, reminiscent smile. "It took me a long time working with Khyllian to make it."

"We went through a lot of rejects before you made Edaen," Khyllian added.

"Well, I think this sword might be even better then Edaen," Edmund said, looking down at the sword he held. "It feels right."

"When Oreius is through with you," Khyllian said, as they went to leave, "you'll need to come back here, to have your armor fitted to you. King Edmund, your armor's been refit so many times since you came here-"

"We'll figure something out," Edmund said. "Thank you, Khyllian."

"I've been meaning to ask, where did you get that sword?" Edmund continued, as he and Peter walked to the training field. "And where did Susan get a bow, and Lucy, a dagger?"

"They were gifts from Father Christmas," Peter told him. "He said we'd need them to fight the Witch. And he said that you got a gift, too."

"Narnia," Edmund said, and Peter looked at him in surprise. "Father Christmas was the one who brought me to Narnia the first time. That was my gift."

"When did you go?" Peter asked, curiously.

"Remember the first night in the Professor's house?" Edmund reminded him. "When I got up to get a drink of water, and you said Mrs. Macready was going to catch me? Well, she almost did, and I ran into the wardrobe to escape.

"Then, I was in Narnia, and I met Philip. He saved me when the Witch's Wolves attacked, and he brought me to Aslan. I was here for five years, and then Aslan sent me back, to bring you here."

"And when you tried to tell us that Narnia was real, we didn't believe you," Peter said. "I am sorry about that, Ed."

"It's okay, really," Edmund assured him.

Then, there was no more time to talk, as they had arrived at the training field, where Oreius was waiting for them. Philip and a tall Unicorn stood nearby.

"We'll start with practice on the ground, and then move to mounted combat," Oreius told them.

He had Edmund and Peter square off, and coached them through a series of maneuvers, correcting them when they made mistakes. Edmund had a harder time of it than Peter because he still hadn't gotten used to his new height (or lack thereof), and kept executing moves that were beyond his reach. Time after time, he stumbled over his own feet or got caught by blows he thought he'd avoided.

"Now I remember why I hated being short so much," he gasped, as they took a moment to breathe.

"At least you haven't gotten hit on the head, again," Philip remarked, and Edmund shot him a look.

"Has everyone in camp heard about that?" he demanded.

"No," Peter spoke up, before Philip could answer. "What happened?"

Edmund glared at Philip, again, before reluctantly telling Peter about his early-morning mishap. Peter heard him out, silently, and then burst out laughing.

"Well, I'm glad you find it funny," Edmund muttered.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologized, "but if you could see the look on your face…"

His voice trailed off as he started laughing again.

"It's probably a little bit funny," Edmund admitted, slowly. "Now that my head doesn't hurt anymore, anyway."

"We'll move on to mounted combat," Oreius told them. "That should put you both on more even ground."

The Unicorn stepped toward Peter, and nodded, regally.

"Your Majesty, I am Perrin," he introduced himself. "I will bear you in battle against the Witch."

"It's nice to meet you, Perrin," Peter responded.

Then, he regarded the Unicorn's bare back and paled slightly.

"Problem, Peter?" Edmund asked, noticing his expression.

"Shouldn't there be a saddle and bridle?" Peter asked.

"All right," Perrin spoke up, before Edmund could say anything, "but won't you have a hard time using your sword with pieces of leather strapped to your head and back?"

Peter turned to look at Edmund, but he was no help, as he was shaking with laughter at the image those words conjured up.

"Sorry," he gasped out, as he struggled to regain control of himself. "Peter, riding bareback isn't that hard."

"Do you remember how often I fell off Uncle Michael's horses?" Peter retorted.

"That's different," Edmund told him. "Perrin will make sure you don't fall off."

Cupping his hands, he gestured for Peter to put his foot in them. Peter did so, reluctantly, and Edmund boosted him onto Perrin's slim back. He stepped back, letting Peter get himself settled. It was then that Peter noticed that Edmund was shaking with exhaustion.

He hadn't complained throughout the grueling workout they'd already done, and it had been easy to forget that Edmund had been badly injured and was still healing. But now he stood there, drenched in sweat and looking like he was going to collapse at any minute.

Philip must have seen it too, because he suddenly lowered himself to the ground, with a soft grunt.

"You've overexerted yourself," the Horse said, firmly, as Edmund stood staring, speechless, "and I won't have you killing yourself for a workout. Either you mount and dismount like this, or I don't move."

Edmund was so tired, he didn't even protest. He simply sat astride Philip's back and clung tightly to his mane as the Horse lurched to his feet.

"Steady, now?" Oreius asked, quietly.

"I'm okay," Edmund replied. "I can continue."

"Very well," Oreius said, although there was doubt in his voice. "Swords at the ready."

They drilled under Oreius's tutelage for nearly another half an hour, then he left them, to practice some more on their own.

"Come on, Ed," Peter prompted, as he and Edmund circled each other. "Sword point up, like Oreius showed us."

Edmund nodded, absently, his eyes never leaving Peter's sword. Beneath him, Philip shuddered slightly, and Edmund tensed. A second later, the Horse had darted toward Perrin and Peter, giving Edmund the opportunity to strike. Peter parried the blow quickly as Perrin danced backward in surprise.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Peter asked, in surprise.

"Lots and lots of practice," Edmund replied. "Philip and I have been working together for five years, remember."

"Right," Peter said, as he was reminded, once again, how different his baby brother had become.

"I don't know about you boys," Perrin spoke up, into the uncomfortable silence that followed, "but I feel like a run."

"So do I," Philip remarked.

"You ready?" Edmund asked, not sure if Peter was up to galloping bareback, yet.

"I am if you are," Peter replied, as the same thought about Edmund flashed through his mind.

"Let's go, then," Edmund said, eagerly, leaning over Philip's neck.

The Horse needed no further urging. He took off like a shot, Perrin a second behind. The two pounded across the field, neck and neck, as their riders yelled encouragement. As they neared the archery fields, Philip was clearly in the lead.

As he caught sight of his sisters, Edmund signaled to Philip, who obligingly slowed down, circling until he was near the girls. Perrin followed suit, and Edmund and Peter watched their sisters at target practice.

Susan took careful aim with her bow, and let a first arrow fly. It hit the target slightly off center, and she scowled. Lucy stepped up, taking her dagger from its sheath, and let it fly. It sunk dead into the bulls eye, and Peter and Edmund let out cheers.

"Way to go, Luce!" Edmund called, as his baby sister glowed with pleasure.

She started forward to get her dagger, but Bertran, who'd been lying nearby, sprang to his feet, blocking her path.

"Wait here," the Wolf ordered, brusquely, as he trotted towards the target, himself.

"Something wrong, Bertran?" Edmund called, and the Wolf looked back at him.

"Just being careful," he replied. "We're awfully close to the edge of camp."

No sooner had the words left his mouth when a dark shape detached itself from the bushes and hurled itself from the startled Wolf. Bertran recovered quickly, lunging, and pinning a Gnome to the ground. With a vicious snarl, Bertran grabbed the front of the dirty rags the Gnome wore, and dragged him over to the young Monarchs.

"You can't hurt me!" the Gnome bleated. "I serve the Queen of Narnia!"

"Majesties, have you seen this creature, before?" Bertran asked, turning to Lucy and Susan as he placed a restraining paw on the Gnome's chest.

"No," Susan replied, answering for both of them.

"Did the Witch send you to kill my sisters?" Edmund demanded, before anyone else could speak.

"Only to spy," the Gnome admitted, having the sense to know when he was beaten. "Not to kill."

"Take him to Aslan," Peter ordered. "He'll know what to do with him."

Bertran looked up at Edmund, who nodded in agreement with his brother.

"Yes, Majesty," Bertran said, trotting off, dragging the protesting Gnome behind him.

A few seconds later, Beaver burst out of nowhere, and Philip reared in surprise.

"Peter, Edmund, You'd better come quick!" he cried. "The White Witch is here! And she's requested a meeting with Aslan..."


	10. Negotiations

**Chapter Ten: Negotiations**

Edmund quickly pulled Susan up behind him on Philip's back, as Peter did the same with Lucy. Philip and Perrin waited a moment to make sure their riders were settled, before taking off at a gallop.

They arrived at the center of the camp, shortly, and Edmund slid off Philip's back even before he'd stopped moving. He helped Susan down, and they, Peter, and Lucy moved over to where all the Creatures in the camp had gathered.

Bertran, who'd pinned the Gnome to the ground, again, was growling softly as he looked at Ginarrbrik. The Dwarf was striding impudently down the aisle the Creatures had created, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Make way for Jadis, Queen of Narnia!" he yelled, "Empress of the Lone Isles!"

Behind him, a quartet of hefty Cyclopes bore a litter on their shoulders. Reclining lazily on the litter was the White Witch.

She looked around, contemptuously, as the Cyclopes set her down, gently. Then, she fixed her gaze on Aslan, who'd just come out of his tent, and an icy smile came over her face.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan," she declared, her eyes never leaving the Lion's face.

"She doesn't waste any time, does she?" Peter muttered, as the crowd started grumbling, angrily.

"His offence was not against you," Aslan declared, silencing the Creatures.

"Have you forgotten the laws on which Narnia was founded?" the Witch asked, her tone deceptively mild.

"Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch," Aslan growled, a hint of mocking laughter in his voice. "I was there when it was written."

The Witch's face twisted, furiously, as the slight hit home.

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me," she declared, angered. "His blood is my property."

"Try and take him, then," Peter burst out, his sword clearing its sheath in a rush of steel.

The Minotaur at the Witch's side moved forward, menacingly, but was stopped by Bertran, who'd planted himself, snarling, between Peter and the Witch's forces.

"Do you think mere force will deny me my right?" the Witch asked, a cruel laugh bubbling from her lips. "Little king, Aslan knows that unless I have blood as the law demands, all of Narnia will perish, and be overturned in fire and water."

She paused, obviously relishing in the fear that had suddenly overcome the Creatures surrounding her.

"That boy will die on the Stone Table, as is tradition," she continued, her eyes hard, as she stared at Edmund.

"Enough!" Aslan roared, as the frantic mutterings of the crowd reached a fever pitch. They fell silent, immediately.

"I will talk with you alone," he continued, glaring at the Witch.

Nodding regally, she swept over the ground, disappearing into the tent behind Aslan. Peter watched her go, waiting until the tent flap fell softly into place before turning to look at his siblings.

Edmund hadn't moved since their arrival. His face was pinched and drawn, and he stared unseeingly into the distance. Peter put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, clearly startled.

"It'll be okay," Peter told him, reassuringly. "Aslan won't let anything happen to you."

Edmund nodded wordlessly, sinking down to sit cross-legged on the hard ground. A moment later, his siblings joined him. Idly, Susan began to pluck at the grass near her feet.

"Peter's right," she said. "Aslan will protect you. He'll protect all of us."

"I don't see how," Edmund whispered, hollowly. "If she's not appeased, Narnia will be destroyed."

"Surely she can't possibly-" Susan began.

"She can and she will," Edmund interrupted. "It's part of the power given to her at the Dawn of Time, by the Emperor-Over-the-Sea."

"Isn't there a way to take away her power?" Lucy asked, plaintively.

"Not according to the Deep Magic," Edmund said, wearily.

"What is the Deep Magic?" Peter asked, curiously.

"It's the laws that form Narnia," Edmund told him. "I learned about it in my history lessons, about how everything is shaped by the Deep Magic, and how everything must conform to it."

His history recitation was cut off, suddenly, as the tent flap opened, and Aslan and the Witch stepped out. Edmund and his siblings jumped to their feet as the Witch passed, her face set in haughty lines.

"The Witch has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood," Aslan announced.

A ragged cheer went up from the assembled Creatures as they rejoiced in relief. Many rushed forward to congratulate Edmund, who smiled weakly in reply. He huffed out a soft breath when Lucy hit him in a hard hug, and he wrapped his arms around her in return.

"How do I know your promise will be kept?" the Witch asked, suddenly, glaring at Aslan.

The Lion's only reply was a sudden, ferocious roar that startled her so badly that she fell back into the seat on her litter. The scowl on her face became more pronounced as she took in the sight of so many Creatures laughing at her.

Drawing herself up as much as she could in her position, she gestured to her Cyclopes. The massive creatures hefted the litter up on their shoulders, lumbering away. Ginarrbrik and the Troll followed close behind.

Edmund watched them go, frowning. The frown became deeper when he looked back at Aslan in time to watch the Lion disappear into his tent, again. Quickly, he trotted after him, ducking inside the tent just as the flap closed.

"Edmund," Aslan acknowledged, without turning around.

"What promise was the Witch referring to?" Edmund asked.

"It is a matter between her and me," Aslan told him.

"Why would the Witch so easily renounce her claim on my life?" he pressed, urgently needing to know the answer.

"That is a matter between myself and the Witch," Aslan repeated. "You are no longer involved."

"Did you give her your life in exchange for mine?" Edmund demanded, incredulously.

A terrible silence fell over the tent, as his question hung, unanswered, in the air between them. Then…

"Go," Aslan commanded, quietly, a clear dismissal.

Tears blinding him, Edmund whirled and bolted out of the tent. He sprinted past his siblings, past a startled Bertran, nearly knocking Oreius off his hooves. He ran, desperately, not knowing where he was going, only that he needed to be anywhere but there.

He barely noticed when he stumbled on patches of rough ground; paid no mind to falling, and hitting hard. He simply dragged himself up again and kept running. Finally, he reached the point where he was just too exhausted to run any longer.

Sinking to his knees, he felt despair come over him like a cloak. Giving voice to the emotion, he screamed, anguish coming from him in waves. So lost was he in his grief that he barely noticed the cold nose poking him in the shoulder. Only when he quieted, his chest heaving from the exertion, did he see Bertran standing before him, sorrow reflected in his eyes.

Wordlessly, Bertran moved forward until he was pushing against Edmund. Edmund stared at him for several long seconds before Bertran's intent became clear. Then, he threw his arms around the Wolf and buried his face in Bertran's shaggy coat, violent sobs wracking his body.

As the tears poured down his face, he ceased to be a King, a savior of Narnia. He was simply a child lost in grief. Time had no meaning; he had no idea how long he was sprawled in the dirt, clinging desperately to Bertran.

Finally, his tears dried up, and his sobs quieted, and he was able to let go of the Wolf. Sitting up, he wiped hastily at his eyes, blinking in the sudden harshness of the sunlight.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, but Bertran nuzzled him, gently, cutting off the rest of his words.

"Everyone needs a good howl now and then," he said, quietly.

"That was a bit more than a howl," Edmund acknowledged.

"What did Aslan say to upset you, so?" Bertran asked, suddenly.

"He-" Edmund began, but was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoof beats.

Looking around, he watched as Susan slid gracefully off Philip's back, patting the Horse's neck in thanks as she walked over to Edmund and Bertran.

"Philip said this was where you went whenever you were upset," Susan said, before he could ask how she found him.

Looking around in surprise, Edmund realized she was right. Without even being aware of it, he'd gone to the one place that always brought him comfort, the rocks overlooking the sea and Cair Paravel.

"And you're obviously upset," Philip filled in, finishing Susan's comment as he joined them.

"What's wrong?" Susan asked, concerned, as she sank down to sit beside him. "Talk to me, Ed."

Edmund sighed heavily, trying to organize his thoughts into some semblance of order.

"Do you remember what the Witch said about Aslan keeping his promise?" he asked, finally.

"Yes," Susan replied.

"I think he may have promised her… _something_," Edmund told her, evasively, "in exchange for my life."

"Do you know what that might have been?" Susan asked.

Edmund closed his eyes as he tried to figure out how to best answer her question. A part of him wanted to tell her the truth. Another part insisted on keeping it a secret, insisted that there was still a way to keep Aslan from sacrificing himself.

Susan sat patiently while Edmund battled with himself, her hand a steadying presence in his. Finally, Edmund opened his eyes, having reached a decision.

"I don't know," he lied, quietly.

"Well, whatever it is," Susan said, "I'm sure it's worth the price of your life. We'd do anything to keep from losing you, Ed."

Edmund nodded, distractedly, but he hadn't heard her. All of his attention had turned inward, to focus on the glimmer of an idea that had sprung to life.

_'I can't let Aslan do this,'_ he thought. _'I can't let him sacrifice himself for me. I have to figure out some way to stop him.'_

"Ready to go back to camp?" Susan asked, quietly, drawing him away from his thoughts. "You and Peter still have to be fit for armor, remember."

"Let's go," Edmund said, jumping to his feet, and holding a hand out to Susan to pull her up.

They walked back to camp, Philip and Bertran on either side. Susan left Edmund at the armory tent where Peter was already inside, getting fit into a chainmail shirt by Khyllian. Despite his preoccupation, Edmund couldn't help but smile at the way the sleeves hung down past Peter's fingers.

"I think that's one of my old shirts," he remarked, entering the tent and letting the heavy flap fall closed behind him.

"It is," Peter said, trying unsuccessfully to push the ends of the sleeves up to his wrists. Finally giving up the efforts as futile, he added, "Just how tall did you grow, anyway?"

"I had a couple of inches on you," Edmund told him, eyeing his older brother critically as he answered.

"Try this on," Khyllian said, interrupting him.

She handed over a gleaming chain shirt that Edmund slipped over his head, writhing to get the shirt down past his hips. Stretching his arms out, he twisted and bent, testing the slack in the shirt. He nodded in satisfaction as he turned back to Khyllian.

"It still fits perfectly," he told her.

"This shirt fits fairly well, too," Peter added, doing some stretching of his own. "Except for the sleeves."

"Those can be pinned back to free your hands," Khyllian said, demonstrating. "And then, once the Witch has been defeated and we have more time, you will be fitted for a proper suit."

She took a few more measurements, and then let them go when a Bear poked his head into the tent.

"Majesties," the Bear rumbled, bowing to Edmund and Peter. "Arms-mistress, if you have a moment to look at my claws-"

He held up a paw, his natural claws covered in sharp metal sheaths.

"We should probably head to dinner," Edmund told Peter. "The girls are probably looking for us. Khyllian, thank you for everything."

"Of course, Majesties," Khyllian said, helping them take the chain shirts off.

"We'll see you tomorrow for another fitting," Peter promised as they headed out of the tent.

"Good evening, Kavik," Edmund wished the Bear as they left.

"Do you really think we can do it?" Peter asked, quietly, as they headed across camp to the girl's pavilion. "Defeat the Witch, I mean?"

"Of course we can," Edmund said, automatically. "We have Aslan on our side."

"But what if the Witch doesn't keep her promise?" Peter asked, worriedly. "What if she tries to destroy Narnia in fire and water, like she threatened?"

"She won't," Edmund vowed, his resolve strengthened, as he knew what he had to do. "Narnia will be safe, I swear. I'll make sure of it," he added, softly.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter was awakened, suddenly, by Aslan's fierce roar as it ripped through the camp. He bolted out of bed, flinging the heavy covers off him and grabbing reflexively for his sword.

As he ran for the tent entrance, he noticed Edmund was no longer in his bed. He shrugged it off as Edmund simply having a faster reaction time from so long in Narnia, and bolted out of the tent, tripping over Bertran, who had been sprawled across the entrance.

The Wolf, who'd been trying to stand up, stumbled forward, grunting in pain as Peter accidentally booted him in the ribs. Just as quickly, though, both righted themselves and joined the crush of Creatures headed towards Aslan's tent.

Peter saw Susan and Lucy standing at the front of the crowd, and pushed his way through to join them.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"Where's Edmund?" Susan asked, staring at him with a strange expression in her eyes.

"Isn't he already here?" Peter asked, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

Her reply was cut off by a sudden, mournful howl. Peter looked around, quickly, to see Bertran staring at a piece of paper lying on the ground in front of Aslan's tent. The Wolf wailed again, the sound sending shivers down Peter's back, and then he whirled, running as fast as his legs could move.

Suddenly fearful, Peter moved forward, slowly, to where Aslan stood motionless in front of his tent. With trembling hands, he picked the piece of paper up, reading it silently to himself. Seconds passed, and then, the paper falling from his numb fingers, he collapsed in the dust, a heart wrenching wail of his own rending the air.

Susan and Lucy sprinted immediately to his side, as Oreius picked up the paper, reading the message aloud for the benefit of everyone listening.

_'I'm sorry, Aslan, but I know about the agreement you reached with the Witch to save me, and I can't let you do it. Narnia needs its King-Above-Kings far more than it needs a traitor. I betrayed Narnia. It's only right that I do what is necessary to save it._

_Edmund'_

**Author's Note: Well, if you had any doubts at all that this was an AU, I think I've effectively quashed them. **

**Yeah, I know that was short, but I'm hoping the content made up for it.**

**Questions? Comments? **

**You may now commence with the throwing of tomatoes.**


	11. Sacrifice

**Author's Note: Takes place between the last two scenes in chapter ten.**

**Chapter Eleven: Sacrifice**

Edmund waited until he heard Peter's breathing even out, steady as he slept. Then, stealthily, he slipped out of bed, pulling his boots on and creeping out of the tent they shared. He left his sword and armor behind; he wouldn't need it where he was going.

Blinking in the moonlight, he gazed out at the camp, and wondered if he was doing the right thing.

_'Of course I am,'_ he thought, a second later. _'I can't let anything happen to Narnia because I was a traitor. I just can't.'_

Hearing shifting rock behind him, he whirled in surprise to see Lucy coming up behind him.

"Couldn't sleep?" his younger sister asked.

"I'm just out for a little walk," Edmund lied.

"Can I come with you?" Lucy asked. "I can't sleep, either."

Edmund froze at her words, the simple request making more of an impact on him than the Witch ever could. He couldn't have her, couldn't have any of his family, finding out what he was going to do. And he didn't want her anywhere near the Stone Table. But, she was still looking at him expectantly, and it had been a long time since he'd been able to refuse her anything.

"Where would you care to go, my lady?" he asked with exaggerated gallantry, holding his arm out to her.

"I wanted to go see the cliffs that overlook Cair Paravel, again," Lucy said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

She set off, practically dragging him there in her eagerness, and Edmund was left with no choice but to follow. They moved quietly through the still-silent camp, passing Khyldaer who was on patrol near the archery field. When they reached the cliffs, Lucy sank down to sit on the rocky ground, looking at Cair Paravel illuminated by the bright moonlight.

"I think this is my favorite place in Narnia," she said.

"Just wait until you three get to Cair Paravel, itself," Edmund said, without thinking, and then winced when he heard his slip-up.

But, if Lucy had noticed his choice of words, she didn't question it. Instead, she leaned against him as he sat down beside her, snuggling against his side when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked, after they had sat in silence for several minutes.

"I'm worried about you and Peter," Lucy confessed, quietly. "Susan, too."

"Why?" Edmund asked, curiously.

"Everyone's preparing for battle with the White Witch," Lucy told him. "You and Peter have been practicing your sword fighting with Orieus, Susan has been practicing her archery, even the Talking Animals are working on their fighting skills."

"Lucy," Edmund started, as he understood what she was getting at.

"You're leaving for war just like Daddy did," Lucy continued, sounding like she was holding back tears. "What if you don't come back?"

"We will," Edmund promised, rashly, even as he wondered how he was going to keep that particular promise. "Lu, we'll always be here for you."

"Do you promise?" Lucy pressed, insistently, and Edmund could see how desperately she needed to hear his reassurance.

"I promise," he said, hugging her tightly.

They sat together for a few more minutes and then Edmund stood, pulling Lucy to her feet.

"It's late," he told her, when she looked at him in confusion. "You should get some sleep."

"All right," Lucy agreed, and Edmund walked her back to the tent she shared with Susan. "Good night, Edmund," she added, as she went inside.

"Good night, Lucy," he said, softly, watching her disappear. "Sleep well."

Poking his head into the tent, he watched his sisters sleep peacefully for a few seconds, and then reluctantly left the tent and headed down the path to Aslan's pavilion. Right beside it was the small lean-to where the battle plans had been laid out, for all to see. Next to the map was a small stack of paper and a quill. Dipping the quill in the small ink pot, he quickly composed his message.

_'I'm sorry, Aslan, but I know about the agreement you reached with the Witch to save me, and I can't let you do it. Narnia needs its King-Above-Kings far more than it needs a traitor. I betrayed Narnia. It's only right that I do what is necessary to save it._

_Edmund'_

Blowing on the ink to dry it, he placed it on the ground in front of Aslan's tent, with a rock on top, to keep it from blowing away in the night.

Then, he turned and started toward the edge of the camp. He'd almost slipped out of the camp without drawing any more attention when a dark shape stepped out of the shadows. Bertran, on his nightly patrol of the camp, looked curiously at Edmund.

"Feeling restless?" the Wolf asked.

"Just out for a walk," Edmund said again, the lie coming easier the second time. "I thought I could use some fresh air."

"Do you need an escort?" Bertran asked.

Part of Edmund was tempted to say yes; he didn't want to go to the Stone Table - go to his death - alone. But, he knew that if Bertran knew his plans, he'd do everything in his power to stop him. And Edmund couldn't have him doing that. Not if he wanted to save Narnia.

"I'll be all right," he replied. "Philip will probably figure out I'm awake and join me, anyway."

Bertran nodded, and silently turned to continue with his patrol around the perimeter of the camp.

"Bertran," Edmund called, suddenly, stopping the Wolf in his tracks. "Watch over Peter and the girls for me, will you?"

"Of course, my King," Bertran said, sounding surprised. "But, you'll be back by morning."

Edmund nodded, wordlessly, and turned away quickly before Bertran could see the tears that filled his eyes. Dashing them away, quickly, he continued on his way.

Almost too quickly, he reached the beginning of the path to the Stone Table. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the path. He didn't look back, knowing that if he did so, he'd never be able to go on.

Screwing up his courage, he was about to continue walking, when he heard a branch break. Looking around in surprise, he found himself staring into a warm pair of brown eyes.

"You didn't think I would let you make this trek on your own, did you?" Philip asked, softly.

Gazing at his oldest and dearest friend, Edmund shook his head.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"After all this time, you still need to ask that question?" Philip retorted, as they resumed their path through the woods. "Better you should ask, how could I have not known?"

"I know you as well as you know yourself, Edmund. You will not let Narnia perish, and you are not willing for Aslan to give his life so you may live," Philip told him.

"You're not going to stop me?" Edmund asked, a few moments later.

"You are my Prince," Philip replied. "I will not stand against your choice."

"That's not what I meant," Edmund said, softly.

"You are also my friend," Philip told him. "And, while I may not like what you're doing, I understand your reasoning. I only wish-"

"No!" Edmund snapped, cutting him off. "I won't let anyone sacrifice themselves for me. Not this time."

There was no reply to be found, so none was made, and the two walked on in silence. As they walked, Edmund draped his arm across Philip's withers, and the Horse slowed his pace to match the human's.

"The Witch will still lead her troops to battle," Philip said, at last breaking the silence.

"I know," Edmund said, heavily. "But, in a battle, Peter and the others still have a chance. They'd never survive if the Deep Magic were invoked."

"The prophecy," Philip ventured, hesitantly.

"I don't want to think about that," Edmund whispered, shaking his head, quickly.

They lapsed into silence, again, and Edmund was painfully reminded of his and Philip's desperate flight to Aslan's camp five years ago, to escape the Witch. Now, they were fleeing the camp and into the Witch's clutches. The irony could have made him smile, had he felt himself still capable.

Philip must have been thinking of the same thing, because he spoke up quickly.

"I promised to tell you how I got my name," he said. "Did I ever?"

"No," Edmund responded.

"I was born when the Endless Winter was at its bleakest," Philip said. "About ten years before you and your siblings came to Narnia. My dam died a few days after giving birth to me, and my sire was already away fighting the Witch, so I found myself alone.

"I was cold, and hungry, and I wandered away from the shelter my dam had found. I'd likely have died, if I hadn't been found and rescued."

"By who?" Edmund asked.

"By the newly-christened King of Archenland, King Lune," Philip replied. "He'd gotten lost, himself, and wound up in Narnia, and when he saw a lost, dying foal, he decided to save it."

"He didn't know you were a Talking Horse, did he?" Edmund wondered.

"I was too weak, at first, to speak," Philip told him. "And, when I became stronger, I discovered that my stable mates were all dumb horses, so I felt it best to keep quiet."

"But what about your name?" Edmund asked, curiously.

"King Lune decided to name me after one of his ancestors," Philip said. "One of the first Kings of Archenland. King Philip."

"Rather sentimental of him," Edmund remarked.

"His other choice was Star," Philip replied, which drew a dry snort of laughter from Edmund.

"Anyway," Philip continued, "he saved me, and named me, and raised me to an adult. And when I was strong enough, I ran back to Narnia."

"Where you then served Aslan," Edmund finished. "I wonder if King Lune would recognize you, today."

"I don't know," Philip replied. "I doubt it, though. I've changed quite a lot from when he last saw me."

"Yeah, for one thing, you're talking," Edmund teased, lightly.

Then, the small smile fell from his face as he realized that they'd reached the area marking the edge of the clearing where the Stone Table rested. Edmund closed his eyes, and swallowed hard.

"Philip, you need to go back to camp," he said, unable to look at the Horse.

"No," Philip said, firmly, surprising him.

"But, if they find you," he protested.

"I will not be seen," Philip assured him. "But, I will not leave you to face this alone."

"I could order you back to camp," Edmund threatened, finally meeting Philip's patient gaze.

"You could," Philip acknowledged. "But you won't."

"No," Edmund admitted.

Silence reigned, as both stood staring down at what awaited Edmund.

"I don't want to die alone," Edmund whispered, slowly.

"You won't," Philip told him, his voice cracking slightly. "I will be here. And I will-"

He broke off, struggling with the words.

"I will bear you back to Aslan and your siblings, when it is done," he finished, heavily.

"Thank you," Edmund replied. "Philip, I-"

He faltered, as tears sprang, unbidden, to his eyes. He dashed them away before they could fall.

"My first friend in Narnia," he said, fondly. "You've saved my life more times than I can count."

"It has been an honor serving you, my Prince," Philip said, formally, invoking a title he so rarely used. "And the greatest of pleasures to call you friend."

"I love you, Philip," Edmund whispered, hugging the Horse's neck, tightly.

Philip dropped his head onto Edmund's shoulder, and whickered softly into his hair.

"And I you," he murmured.

Horse and boy stood in their embrace for several moments, each wishing that time would simply stop. Then, reluctantly, Edmund stepped back.

"Tell Peter, Susan, and Lucy that I love them," he requested. "And tell Peter this wasn't his fault. He'll blame himself if you let him. He always does," he added, with a fond smile for his older brother.

"I will," Philip promised.

Edmund nodded once, resolutely, and then turned away, to make his way down the steep path leading to the Stone Table. He had expected to feel afraid, or apprehensive, but, with every step, a sense of peace filled his being.

A weight he hadn't even known he carried was lifted from his shoulders, and he found himself walking tall and with pride.

His doubts were gone, as simply as if they'd never existed, and he knew that what he was doing was right.

And then he was at the Stone Table.

Dozens of the Witch's Creatures stood between him and Stone Table. Beyond them waited the Witch.

Edmund looked at her, meeting her gaze without fear as he started slowly down the path the Creatures had created to the Stone Table. Around him, the Creatures hissed, and spat, and swiped their claws at him, but he ignored them.

She made a sudden gesture, and a pair of Ogres grabbed him, their grips crushingly tight. For his part, Edmund stayed still and silent, waiting.

"Bind him," the Witch ordered, coldly.

Without hesitation, the Creatures rushed forward, intent on inflicting as much damage as they could while they secured his arms behind his back. When they stepped back, only mere moments later, he was covered in a multitude of cuts and bruises.

Still, he said nothing.

"Bring him to me."

The Ogres dragged him up the steps to the top of the Stone Table and threw him, to land at the Witch's feet. He staggered, painfully, to his feet, so that they were face to face.

"So, Aslan sends you, anyway," the Witch said, mockingly.

"Aslan doesn't know I'm here," Edmund informed her. "I come willingly, and with full knowledge of my fate. I come to save Narnia."

"How moving," the Witch mocked. "You're saving nothing. Narnia will be mine."

"We'll see," Edmund replied, softly.

The Witch glared at him, before turning to the assembled Creatures.

"Tonight, the Deep Magic will be appeased!" she declared. "Tonight, the traitor's blood will flow!"

The Creatures let loose a series of shrieks and roars, pressing closer so as not to miss a single moment. Their eagerness was palpable, coming off them in waves.

"In that knowledge," the Witch continued, softer, as she turned back to Edmund. "Despair and die."

She raised her knife…

Edmund took a deep breath. His siblings' faces flashed through his mind.

_'I'm sorry.'_

Firelight glinted off the blade…

_'I love you, Peter, Susan, Lucy.'_

The Witch made a sharp movement with her arm…

_'Please forgive me.'_

Pain filled him. He fell to his knees, crashed heavily to the ground. The Witch grinned triumphantly down at him.

"Prepare your troops for battle," he heard her say. "However short it may be."

In the distance, he thought he heard a Lion's roar.

_'Please forgive me.'_

He let out the breath he'd been holding, and slowly closed his eyes.

**A/N: I know, another short one. But powerful, I'm hoping. *Hands out hankies***


	12. The Battle

**Chapter Twelve: The Battle**

Philip made his way slowly down from the copse of trees to where the Stone Table was. Laboriously, he climbed the steps, until he stood beside Edmund's body. The young human was pale, and his blood pooled darkly on the stone beneath him.

Philip lowered himself until he was lying beside Edmund. Reaching out, he sunk his teeth into his jerkin, pulling him as close as he could. Then, he started tugging at the ropes that tightly bound Edmund's hands behind his back. He stopped, however, when he quickly realized that he couldn't get the ropes off without breaking Edmund's skin.

Just as quickly, he also realized that he had no way to get Edmund onto his back. Not without help. Despair filled him as he realized he could not fulfill his last promise to his friend.

Then, he heard a rustling sound.

For a moment, the Horse's baser instincts took over, and the sight of the mice swarming over Edmund's body filled him with disgust and fear. But, he quickly realized that they weren't harming him; quite the opposite. The mice were actually gnawing through the thick ropes, which fell, fiber by fiber, to the cold stone floor.

Finally, the last of the ropes were gone, and Edmund's arms flopped down to his sides. There was still the problem of getting Edmund back to camp, but that was solved by a pair of Dryads who, appearing out of nowhere, gently maneuvered Edmund onto Philip's back and steadied him as the Horse lurched to his feet and stepped delicately off the Stone Table.

"Thank you," Philip said, softly, as he studied the Dryads.

"Fight well against the Witch," one of them said, in that peculiar leaves-in-the-wind voice that all Dryads possessed. "Do not let our forests burn."

Philip nodded, and the Dryads vanished from sight. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned to make his way back to Aslan's camp.

Except that he found himself to stunned to move.

Stunned, by the feel of a hand weakly curling into a fist against his side.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

"The Witch's army is on the move!"

Peter's head snapped up at the cry, as Bertran came barreling toward them as fast as his paws could carry him.

"The advance scouts," the Wolf panted, heavily, as he slammed to a stop in front of Aslan's tent. "They've seen the Witch's army advancing on us."

"Where are they headed?" Oreius demanded.

"The fords of Beruna," came the reply.

"Make ready the troops," Aslan commanded, to Oreius, who bowed deeply and cantered off.

"You will lead them into battle," he continued, looking at Peter, who gaped in astonishment.

"Me?" Peter blustered. "But, I can't-what about you?"

"I have a mission of my own to accomplish," Aslan informed him, gravely. "One that Lucy must accompany me on."

The youngest Pevensie swallowed hard at this, but nodded resolutely, wiping away the tears that had streaked her face.

"Climb onto my back, child," Aslan prompted Lucy, who did so, quickly.

Then, the Lion and his passenger bounded off, leaving a stunned King in their wake.

Peter couldn't believe what had happened. He knew next to nothing about commanding anything, let alone troops into battle, and Aslan had just left him. To muddle through alone, without a single bit of advice.

"Aslan trusts you," Susan told him, quietly, startling him out of his reverie.

"What?" he asked, confused, turning toward her.

"Aslan trusts you to lead us," she repeated. "And so do I. We need you, Peter."

"I don't know that I can do this," he told her. "Edmund was the one who was here for five years, not me."

"Well, Edmund's not here!" Susan cried, suddenly, and Peter was ashamed with himself for reminding her of their little brother.

"Edmund's not here," Susan repeated, softer. "He died to save Narnia, and now we need to make sure his sacrifice won't be in vain."

Peter closed his eyes, as a wave of grief overwhelmed him. He felt raw inside, the place in his heart where Edmund resided, a gaping hole.

_'Law or no law,'_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind, _'she needs to pay for killing Edmund.'_

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, out loud.

"Perhaps I may be of assistance, Majesty?" Oreius interjected, coming up beside him.

Peter nodded, quickly, and the Centaur stepped over to the map where the battle plans were laid out.

"You, and I, will be here," Oreius told him, pointing to a spot in front of the first wave of troops. "Queen Susan, you will be with the archers."

Peter was surprised, to hear this, but Susan only nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. When she caught sight of Peter's expression, she gave him a tiny grin.

"You didn't really think you were leaving me behind, did you?" she asked.

Peter felt an answering smile tug at his lips, and a tiny flower of hope bloom in his chest.

_'You will be avenged, Ed,'_ he vowed, silently. _'I swear it.'_

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

The quiet that had fallen over the camp after the departure of the troops was suddenly broken by the pounding of hooves. Expecting to see a Centaur coming with news of the battle, the inhabitants that had been left behind were shocked to see Philip galloping wildly through the camp, their fallen King on his back.

The Horse slid to a hasty stop in front of the Healer's tent, urgency evident in his voice as he whinnied frantically for Shanza. The Healer came on the run, catching the young King as he slipped from Philip's back.

The Horse said something that the curious eavesdroppers couldn't hear, and the Healer disappeared into the tent, Edmund cradled in her strong arms. Philip was right behind her, his sides heaving as he blew out an exhausted breath, and the tent flap closed securely after him.

After a few moments of wild speculation, Bandera was elected as the one to go find out the truth. Nervously, because whatever had the normally placid Horse so worked up couldn't possibly be good, the Fox trotted toward the tent. As she neared the tent, she could make out the voices of the inhabitants inside.

"I don't understand how he could be--what of the Witch's promise to destroy Narnia in fire and flood?"

"All she needed was the blood of the traitor, and plenty of that was left on the Stone Table."

"Maybe too much. He's incredibly weak. I may not be able to do anything."

"He's not going to die. Not like this."

The Horse's voice was full of righteous anger, and Bandera risked a peek inside the tent to discover the cause. Shanza hovered over Edmund's body, administering various concoctions, while Philip stood off to the side, anxiously watching. Then, Edmund gave a weak cough that startled everyone in the tent.

Bandera leapt onto a nearby box in time to see the young King open his eyes and look around, blinking slowly.

"Wh-where?" he croaked, softly.

"You are back at camp, Majesty," Shanza assured him, as Bandera gaped down at the sight of her undead King.

"How am I-" Edmund started, but broke off suddenly as he was overcome by a coughing fit.

When it passed, the Healer held a cup of water to his lips, which he sipped gratefully.

"The Witch," Shanza informed him, "for all she claims to be human, seems to be sorely lacking in knowledge of your anatomy. She missed your heart, which invariably saved your life. I've stopped the bleeding and bound your wound, and restorative tonics are returning your strength, but you need to rest."

Bandera suddenly leapt off the box, still unnoticed by everyone else, as she dashed outside to spread the news. As she left the tent, she thought she heard Edmund inquire about his siblings.

"Well?" an old Badger demanded, as she was confronted outside the Healer's tent.

"King Edmund lives!" she cried, happily, "He lives, and the Deep Magic is appeased."

A ragged cheer rose from the assembled crowd, but it quickly died down at the sight of Edmund staggering, pale and weak, from the Healer's tent. The act of simply standing required him to cling to Philip's back, but there was a determined glint in his eyes that was evident to all.

Their King meant to go to war.

The Horse and human were arguing vehemently as they passed through the crowd, but they headed, nonetheless, in the direction of the armory tent. They once again disappeared from view, as the Creatures milled anxiously, waiting eagerly for their King to reappear.

And he didn't disappoint them. Several long minutes later, he reappeared, this time sitting on Philip's bare back. Clad in mail and chain, with his sword by his side, he looked every inch the warrior. If anyone noticed the pale pallor of his skin and the way his hands shook slightly, they made no mention of it.

Instead, they cheered him heartily, encouraged by his seeming resurrection from death. Bolstered by their cheers, Edmund sat straighter, surer, as he and Philip galloped out of camp.

As they passed her, Bandera distinctly heard Philip's voice.

"I don't care how healthy you think you are. When this is over, you're lying down for a week, even if I have to get King Peter to sit on you."

Even fainter was Edmund's voice.

"I don't think you'll have to work very hard to convince him."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter looked out over the battlefield, his expression unreadable. Beneath him, Perrin was as still as stone, betraying nothing of how he felt.

Above them, a Gryphon circled, coming in for a landing. Alighting on the rock beside them, he opened his beak.

"They come, your Highness, in numbers and weapons far greater than our own."

"Numbers do not win a battle," Oreius proclaimed, from where he was standing on Peter's other side.

"No," Peter mused, "but I'll bet they help."

He craned his head around, and spotted Susan up on the cliffs with the other archers, her armor glinting in the sun and her bow ready in her hands. He couldn't clearly see her face, but he knew the same fierce fire filled her eyes as did his.

Looking at the troops gathered behind him, he caught Bertran's eye as the Wolf stood with the rest of the front lines. Interpreting his expression correctly, the Wolf broke from the line and trotted over.

"Majesty," Bertran acknowledged, solemnly.

"Are you with me, Bertran?" Peter asked.

_'Even though I'm not Edmund?'_ a little voice in the back of his mind added.

"To the death, my King," the Wolf replied, softly. "To the death."

Peter nodded, and turned back to survey the Witch's advancing troops. Raising his sword to the sky, he settled his helm on his head.

"For Narnia!" he cried, his voice carrying even to the cliffs. "For Edmund!"

Perrin reared, once, and then charged down the hill, toward the Witch's army. Oreius and Bertran to either side, his troops behind, they met the Witch's forces with a resounding crash of bodies and steel.

A powerful lunge from Perrin carried them over the Witch's front line of troops and into the thick of the battle. Peter swung his sword at a Wolf lunging at Perrin's flanks, cutting the beast down before it could hurt Perrin. Perrin lunged, skewering a Hag on his deadly horn. As they fought, Peter tried to remember everything that Orieus had taught him about mounted combat, and about working with his partner.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bertran and a pair of Cheetahs ganging up on an advancing Troll, circling it to cut it off from the rest of the Witch's troops and then bringing it down. Then, as the Cheetahs peeled off to head in another direction, Bertran whirled and bounded toward Peter, a massive leap carrying him up to land precariously on Perrin's haunches behind Peter.

Even as Peter wondered what they were doing, Perrin spun on his front hooves, his momentum launching Bertran off his back to send him flying toward an approaching Minotaur like he'd been thrown from a catapult. The Wolf hit the Minotaur and brought it down with the sheer force of his blow, and then he bounded away, leaving the Minotaur motionless on the ground behind him.

On the other side of the field, Orieus fought with a Minotaur, his swords flashing in the sunlight. The Centaur countered every move the Minotaur made, moving with deadly precision. Peter watched Orieus fight for a moment and then Perrin shuddered beneath him, and Peter startled as he realized that they were surrounded.

"Hang on," Perrin told him, grimly, and then the Unicorn reared and charged forward, trampling the Creatures in his path beneath his hooves.

Peter swatted a Boggle away with his sword but wasn't fast enough to counter the other coming at them from the other side.

"Perrin, go left!" he called, tensing for the inevitable blow, but it never came.

The Gryphon scout from earlier swooped down and grabbed the Boggle by the back of the neck, carrying it high into the sky before letting it fall back to the earth with a sickening crunch. Then, the Gryphon tossed Peter a quick salute before climbing higher into the air.

"How much longer?" Perrin called back to him, swinging his head around to risk a quick look at Peter.

"Not much longer," Peter said, flashing back to the battle plans he, Susan, and Orieus had drawn up.

As if his words had been a catalyst, all of their airborne fighters let out a shrieking cry, the signal he'd been waiting for.

"Pull back!" he shouted, hoarsely, as Oreius sounded the horn as a signal to the rest of their troops. "Head them towards the rocks!"

Perrin whirled, galloping back to the cliffs, as the Witch's troops followed in pursuit. Around them, arrows flew, courtesy of Susan and the other archers. No few arrows found their marks in the bodies of the Witch's army.

Then, suddenly, Perrin stumbled, and Peter saw an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He looked up just long enough to see a Dwarf grinning cruelly at him, holding an empty bow, before he was thrown violently off Perrin's back to land hard on the ground.

Winded, he began to struggle to his feet when he saw the Witch advancing on him, her sword and wand held in her hands. Oreius must have seen her as well, because suddenly he was galloping past Peter, his own swords at the ready as he prepared to attack the Witch.

With an almost casual gesture, she struck him with her wand, turning him instantly to stone. Then, she continued towards Peter.

He managed to get to his feet, but he knew with a chilling certainty that he wasn't going to be able to get his sword up in time.

_'I guess I'll be joining you, wherever you are, Ed.'_

Then, he heard a horse's scream, and looked up to see Edmund…

**A/N: Another cliffy, but this one isn't so tragic. I hope. It's also different from the emotional gut-punch last chapter. Can't have my readers crying with every update.**


	13. Together, Again

**Chapter Thirteen: Together, Again**

_**From Last Time:**_

_With an almost casual gesture, the Witch struck Oreius with her wand, turning him instantly to stone. Then, she continued towards Peter. _

_He managed to get to his feet, but he knew with a chilling certainty that he wasn't going to be able to get his sword up in time. _

_'I guess I'll be joining you, wherever you are, Ed.'_

_Then, he heard a horse's scream, and looked up to see Edmund…_

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Lucy clung tightly to Aslan's mane as they finished their wild run, landing softly in the middle of the courtyard of the Witch's icy castle. She slid slowly off his back, staring in shock and horror at the stone statues surrounding them.

"Oh, Aslan," she breathed. "How could she do this?"

"It is the way of evil, child," Aslan told her, heavily, "to inflict harm wherever and however it can."

"Can't you do anything?" Lucy pleaded, turning to him, her eyes filling with tears.

"That is why we are here," Aslan said.

Lucy started to say more, but stopped, gasping in horror when she saw Tumnus. She ran over to the still, stone form, tears filling her eyes. Aslan followed, slower, behind her. Without a word, he breathed on Tumnus.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then light rippled across Tumnus, the stone melting away like water. The Faun took a deep, gasping breath, staggering forward into Lucy's arms.

"Mr. Tumnus!" she cried, happily. "You're all right!"

"Yes, Lucy Pevensie," he replied, hugging her. Then, he bowed to Aslan.

"My King," he said, respectfully.

"It is good to have you back with us, Tumnus," Aslan told him. "Now, come. We have an army to gather, and precious little time to do it."

He moved around the courtyard breathing on the statues gathered there, restoring them to life. The newly-restored Creatures milled in the courtyard, some with old injuries that Lucy healed with carefully-placed drops of her cordial.

The noise level in the courtyard grew as more and more Creatures piled into the small space, until Lucy could barely hear herself think. She couldn't stand the noise, and from the look on Tumnus's face, he felt much the same. She heard a rustling sound behind her, and turned to see Aslan padding softly toward her.

"I am going to go and restore the Creatures inside of the Witch's castle," he told Lucy. "Will you start briefing everyone here in the courtyard?"

"Of course," Lucy said, immediately, as Aslan walked off. "How am I going to get them to listen to me?" she asked Tumnus, plaintively, a moment later.

"Well, you are their Queen," Tumnus told her.

"That's not much help," Lucy told him, when no other advice was forthcoming. Then, turning back to the crowd, she called out, "Excuse me!"

The incessant chatter continued, unabated, and Lucy shot Tumnus a desperate look.

"Excuse me," she tried again. "Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

The only ones who noticed her were a couple of Squirrels who added their squeaking voices to her own, to no avail. Frustrated, Lucy pushed her way through the crowd to clamber on top of the frozen fountain in the center with Tumnus's help. Then, she put her fingers in her lips and blasted out a loud whistle, just the way Peter had taught her. The sound ripped through the crowd, drawing everyone's attention to her, and Lucy gave a small wave when all eyes were focused on her.

"I'm supposed to be briefing you on the battle with the Witch," she said, and she could sense the mood of the crowd shifting at her words. "Peter and Susan are fighting the Witch and they need help."

"Who are you?" someone called out from the back.

"She's your Queen!" another yelled. "Be quiet and listen!"

"How many of the Witch's forces are we up against, Majesty?" a voice called out from somewhere on the side of the crowd. Lucy strained, but she couldn't see the speaker.

"I don't know how many they represent," she began, "but the map at Aslan's camp had nearly two dozen counters on the Witch's side."

"Over five thousand strong," a female Centaur said, coming to the front of the crowd.

"The Reindeer that pulled her sledge were slaves," Lucy said, suddenly. "Couldn't there be others like that amongst the Witch's army?"

"Not nearly enough to make a difference," someone chimed in.

"That's where we come in," a deep voice boomed.

Another Centaur pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside the first.

"I am Gol, your Majesty," he introduced himself. "My partner, Ceryl, and I are ready to serve you."

"Thank you," Lucy said, earnestly. "Is there anyone else? Our army could use everyone it can get."

"I will join you, my Queen," someone spoke up, and the speaker was quickly joined by a chorus of voices.

"What of King Edmund?" a large Mastiff asked. "Does he not fight in the battle as well?"

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone waited anxiously for her answer.

"Edmund," Lucy began, but she had to stop to fight back the sobs that threatened to escape.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she tried to calm herself. Seeing her distress, Tumnus reached up and took her hand, squeezing gently. Finally, Lucy felt strong enough to continue.

"Edmund sacrificed himself to the White Witch," she said, quietly, as calmly as she could manage. "He did it to save us."

"King Edmund is gone?" someone said, sounding shocked.

That started a chain of whispers through the crowd that wasn't quieted until Gol reared, bringing his hooves down onto the courtyard stones with a resounding crash.

"Quiet!" Gol ordered, and the noise stopped immediately. "We will follow you into battle, Majesty," he continued, turning back to Lucy. "And then after, we will grieve with you for this terrible loss."

Lucy nodded, grateful for the Centaur's control over the situation.

"When do we leave for battle?" one of the Squirrels squeaked, and Lucy had to fight back a smile at the thought of the tiny Creature fighting the Witch.

"As soon as Aslan has finished restoring the rest of the Witch's prisoners to life," she answered.

"We will be ready, Majesty," Gol said, turning to look at the other Creatures in the courtyard as though daring anyone to protest. "We will follow you to battle."

"Do you see their faith in you, even after so short a meeting?" Aslan asked, from behind her, and Lucy jumped slightly in shock.

"But, shouldn't that faith be in you?" Lucy asked, quietly, watching the Creatures assemble themselves at the gate to the courtyard.

"I will not always be here," Aslan told her. "But you and your siblings will."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked.

"That is for another time," Aslan said. "For now, we have a battle to get to."

He roared, suddenly, receiving an answering clamor from the Creatures, and they surged through the gate, bursting it open.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter watched in amazement as Philip sailed over him, Edmund sitting tall on his back. The Horse swung around as they landed, placing himself and his rider between the Witch and her intended prey.

Enraged, the Witch struck out with her sword and her wand, only to have her blows countered by Edmund.

"Peter, go!" Edmund shouted as he parried with the Witch. "Susan needs you!"

Peter turned to look, and saw Susan and the other archers surrounded by the Witch's creatures. They fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered and losing ground. Peter charged toward them, sword held high, and gave a mighty war cry.

As he'd hoped, his cry drew the attention of his own soldiers, who charged eagerly to their Queen's defense. Peter threw himself into the fray, wielding his sword with deadly precision. He felt his anger from the past day surging through him, released through the blows of his blade.

He fought his way to Susan's side, and she shot him a grateful, but weary, smile, releasing an arrow into the heart of a leaping Wolf.

"Are we winning?" she asked, ducking to avoid a Minotaur's axe.

Peter thrust his sword to the Minotaur's heart, watching dispassionately as the Beast fell heavily to the ground.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think the tides just turned in our favor."

"What do you mean?" Susan asked.

"Look for the Witch," Peter told her, cryptically.

Susan did as she was bade, and gasped in surprise.

"Is that-?" she started, suddenly too overcome to continue.

"Edmund," Peter finished for her. "He's alive, Sue."

"He's," she began, again, but then the look on her face changed to one of horror.

"Edmund!" she screamed, desperately, running in his direction.

Peter whirled around, feeling as though time had slowed down to a crawl. He caught sight of Edmund in time to see the younger boy fall with slow, obscene grace from Philip's back, clutching at his stomach.

For a second, Peter's mind refused to accept what he was seeing. Then, it hit him like a ton of bricks, and he found his own voice added to Susan's.

"Edmund, no!"

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund looked away from his fight with the Witch long enough to ensure that Peter and Susan didn't need his help. Then, he turned back to the Witch, meeting her sword for sword. He laughed as Philip danced backwards, away from the Witch, and a vicious snarl emerged from her throat.

"How did you not die?" she demanded, furiously. "Narnia should have perished by now."

"The Law demands my blood," Edmund told her. "You spilled my blood on the Stone Table. That I did not die was simply an oversight."

"This time," the Witch threatened, "I'll make sure you stay dead."

Edmund shook his head in disbelief, but the Witch wasn't finished.

"And then," she continued. "I'll slaughter your siblings. The Son of Adam will be first, of course, and then the oldest Daughter of Eve.

"As for the youngest," she taunted, "I'll hobble her and toss her to my Wolves. They never get to have any fun, anymore."

Edmund saw red as he lunged at the Witch, intent on stopping her before she could make good on her promise to destroy his family. He was so angry, he didn't feel her sword pierce his side. He didn't even know he had been injured until he felt a warm wetness cover his hand.

Startled, he looked down to see blood gushing from his body. He looked back up at the Witch, who smiled as she spoke, her words seeming to come from a great distance.

"Do you finally see, little Prince?" she purred. "I will always win. Narnia will be mine."

"Never," Edmund vowed, struggling for breath.

The Witch simply smiled at him, mockingly, turning to leave, but Edmund wasn't through. He brought his sword up with an effort, and as Philip lunged forward, he brought it down on the Witch's wand, shattering it and sending the pieces flying everywhere.

Then, he felt himself falling from Philip's back. He heard his name being screamed, faintly.

And everything went dark.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Enraged, Peter charged the Witch, sword held high. They met in a terrible clash of metal, their swords locking together, briefly, before they separated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Susan drop to her knees beside Edmund's prone form and begin dragging him away from the fight going on nearby. For a fleeting second, he thought he saw--he _prayed_ he saw--Edmund's chest rise and fall with a shallow breath. But, there was no more time to look, as he was once again engaged by the Witch.

They fought fiercely, each trying to defeat the other. Peter's moves became more and more desperate as he realized that he was losing, that the Witch was gaining the upper hand.

Then, he stumbled, falling heavily to the ground as the Witch shoved at him. One of her blades flashed down, and he screamed as the blade went through his arm, pinning him to the ground. He stared up at her in horror as she smiled, evilly, her sword descending toward his heart.

_'I've failed them,'_ he thought, bleakly, staring his death in the face. _'Narnia will perish; Susan, Edmund, and Lucy will die, and it will all be my fault.'_

Then, a Lion's terrific roar galvanized him to action.

He jerked away, rolling to the side, so that the Witch's sword plunged into the earth he'd lain on. Acting on instinct, he lashed out with his leg, slamming his foot into the Witch's shin and forcing her backward. He yanked her other sword out of his arm and scrambled to his feet in time to witness a wave of vengeful Creatures pouring onto the battlefield.

In the midst of the wave was Aslan, with Lucy clinging to his back. The great Lion swept toward them, his powerful legs shaking the earth as he ran.

"Impossible," the Witch breathed, denial written on her face.

Peter turned toward her, intent on continuing their fight, but there was no need. Aslan sprang through the air, hitting the Witch and pinning her to the ground. She struggled beneath him; he moved very quickly, and then she was still.

Aslan lifted his head to look at Peter, his muzzle still stained with blood.

"It is done," he intoned.

Peter locked gazes with the other King in a moment that was only broken by the harsh sound of Susan's choked, painful cry.

"Hurry! Edmund-"

Peter turned toward her voice and saw, to his horror, his little brother was fading, fast. His breaths were quick and shallow, and his skin was paper white.

With an equally pained cry, Lucy rushed toward them, already removing her cordial from her belt. Hastily unscrewing the top, she placed a single drop on his tongue, and they waited, anxiously, for him to heal.

For a moment, it looked as though it had been too late; his chest stilled as his breathing stopped, and Peter felt his heart clench, painfully, with grief. But then, Edmund took in a deep breath. And then another, and another. His eyes fluttered open and he stared in mild confusion at his siblings.

"What-" he croaked out, but he never got the chance to finish, as they enveloped him in a gigantic group hug, almost burying him beneath them.

"Daughter of Eve," Aslan prompted Lucy, after a moment, "your cordial could help many others who have been wounded."

Lucy nodded, springing to her feet and dashing off to the nearest fallen soldier she could see. All around them, their army was straggling in, gathering around them as though to reassure themselves that their Monarchs were still safe. Then, someone spotted Edmund.

A terrific cry went up, and a gray blur streaked out of the crowd to hit Edmund, knocking him backwards. Peter was momentarily alarmed, until he saw that it was only Bertran.

The Wolf quickly licked Edmund's face, while the boy laughed in surprise. Then, Bertran backed off, looking Edmund over, critically.

"It is good to have you back with us, my Prince," he said, solemnly, as though he hadn't been acting like a common dog a mere second ago.

"It is good to be alive," Edmund replied, standing with Peter and Susan's help.

They turned as one to face the assembled Creatures, as Lucy joined them. They seemed to be waiting for something, Peter noted, but he couldn't discern what that might be. Aslan was looking at him as well, and Peter began to feel nervous. Finally, Edmund took pity on him.

"We have won!" he called out, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "The Witch is dead; her hold over Narnia broken. My people, the Eternal Winter is over!"

A cacophony of cheers greeted this statement, and Edmund waited for them to quiet down before he spoke again.

"You have all fought valiantly, today. Your courage and strength have saved Narnia." He paused again, looking over the crowd.

"And now," he continued, "we ride for Cair Paravel!"

Another cheer erupted from the crowd, and they surged, as one, in the direction of the Golden Palace. Appearing out of almost nowhere, Philip and a newly-healed Perrin stopped beside the siblings. Peter and Edmund scrambled onto their backs, reaching down to help their sisters up, and then, they too, joined the mass of Creatures moving toward the castle on the sea.

"A speech?" Peter muttered, as they rode. "They expected me to make a speech?"

Edmund simply smirked.

"You'll learn," he said, affectionately.


	14. Midnight Conversations

**Author's Note:** Holy crap, it's a new chapter. And it only took me three years to get it written. That, and revisions to the other thirteen chapters. I uploaded the new chapters all at once (sorry if I spammed your inboxes with e-mail updates), and there's new content to practically every previous chapter. There are no major plot changes, so no worries there, but there are new scenes that expand on things I either ignored or only touched on the first time around. And I promise to have chapter fifteen up faster than three years.

**Chapter Fourteen: Midnight Conversations**

As the army rode back to the camp to bed down for the night, the mood was lighthearted and cheerful. Banter, laughter, and snatches of various conversations filled the air, and the young Monarchs found themselves looking around in amazement as their people rejoiced.

"Everyone's so happy," Lucy said, wonderingly.

"They've every right to be," Edmund told her. "The White Witch is dead, and they're finally free, after one hundred years. There's going to be a lot of celebrating, tonight."

"Oh, no doubt," Philip chimed in. "Now that the Eternal Winter has finally broken-"

"But, is it really over?" Peter broke in. "The Witch is bound to still have followers. What if one of them tries to pick up where she left off?"

"Whatever Fell Creatures are left, we will deal with them," Edmund said, firmly, as several of the troops glanced curiously in their direction.

In an undertone too low to be overheard by any but his siblings and their mounts, he added, "This is a day for joy. We don't need to ruin it with what-ifs and maybes. Just keep smiling."

"And when would be the proper time to worry about such matters?" Susan asked, thinking ahead in her ever-practical manner.

"After the coronation ceremony, tomorrow," Perrin answered. The Unicorn tossed his mane, imperiously, and added, "That's soon enough to borrow trouble, if you ask me."

"But, what if-" Peter started to protest, but he trailed off, weakly, when all three of his siblings glared fiercely at him.

"We're not yet at the camp," Perrin said, threateningly. "I could still make this a bumpy ride."

"I wish you wouldn't," Susan said, wistfully. "I am riding behind Peter, you know."

"You're light enough, Majesty, that I could carry three for a while," Philip spoke up, cheerfully.

"All right, all right, I get it," Peter acquiesced, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I won't talk about it, anymore."

"Talk about what?" Bertran asked, trotting suddenly up beside Philip and startling the Horse, who shied away before giving the Wolf an angry look.

"Nothing that can't wait until later," Edmund said, firmly.

The Wolf nodded, easily accepting his liege's decision, and Edmund turned his attention to Susan as she spoke.

"So, why are we going back to the camp, tonight?" Susan asked. "Why not just ride straight on to Cair Paravel?"

"It's too far to make it, tonight," Edmund told her. "The journey to the Cair is a full day's ride away, and everyone is still too exhausted and injured from the battle with the Witch and her forces. Better to go tomorrow, when everyone has had the chance to rest."

"What's it like?" Lucy spoke up, eagerly. "Cair Paravel, I mean. Is it wonderful?"

"I don't know," Edmund told her, honestly. "I imagine it would be beautiful."

"You've never been?" Susan asked, curiously.

"The first time I was here, Cair Paravel was always heavily watched by the Witch's forces," Edmund admitted with a slight shrug. "It was too dangerous."

Peter looked like he was about to demand an explanation for that last statement, but they arrived back at camp, then, and everyone was too busy getting temporary tents set back up for the conversation to be resumed. After the siblings set up the pavilion that they were going to share for the night, Edmund, Peter, and Susan went over to the armory tent to leave their armor with Khyllian.

As they arrived, Orieus was just leaving, and he nodded to Peter and Susan as they went into the tent.

"King Edmund," he said, and Edmund paused in the entrance, turning to the General. "Your sword," Orieus continued, gesturing to the new blade Edmund wore on his waist, "that is the blade that shattered the Witch's wand?"

"It is," Edmund answered.

"Your blade is worthy of a name," Orieus told him, and then he cantered away without another word.

"Wow," Peter said, from where he'd been listening to the conversation while cleaning Rhindon to a gleaming shine. "What are you going to name your sword?"

Susan looked up, too, clearly interested in his answer. Edmund thought about it for a long moment, but only one thing seemed appropriate.

"Would you name my sword?" he asked Peter, hesitantly.

Peter looked surprised by his request, but after a moment he nodded.

"Can I have some time to think of a name?" he asked.

"Of course," Edmund told him. "Take all the time you need."

He stripped out of his chain mail shirt, sighing in relief as even that light weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"Are you still injured?" Susan asked in concern, and Edmund sighed as Peter's head whipped around at her words like a Bloodhound catching a scent.

"I'm perfectly fine," he reassured his older siblings. "Lucy's cordial healed my physical injuries; now I'm just tired and sore. That's all," he stressed, insistently, when neither of them looked like they believed him.

"You will rest tonight, won't you Edmund?" Susan asked, at last, looking as though she was going to sit on him if he didn't give her the answer he wanted.

"Yes," Edmund promised. Picking up a soft cloth, he started wiping down his new sword and added, "All I want to do tonight is rest."

"Good," Susan said, sounding satisfied. "Now, let's get back to Lucy and go eat."

A couple of Fauns had whipped up a quick stew for dinner, and Peter and Edmund gathered plates for themselves and their sisters before joining the girls at the small fire near their pavilion.

"What was it like?" Peter asked, once they'd settled themselves on the ground and started eating.

"What was what like?" Edmund asked, hastily swallowing his mouthful of food.

"You were in Narnia for five years before we came," Peter clarified. "What was that time like?"

At Peter's question, Susan and Lucy leaned forward, eagerly, not wanting to miss a single detail. For his part, Edmund put the remains of his dinner aside, anticipating a long tale.

"It was amazing," Edmund said, after thinking over the right words for several long moments. "But, at the same time, it was a little bit terrible,"

"How could Narnia ever be terrible?" Lucy asked, aghast.

"Well," Edmund said, "once I got over being a brat, I realized how much I missed my family, and how much I wanted you three here to share it with me."

Susan and Lucy both 'awwed' over this, but Peter, naturally, latched onto the more interesting part of his statement.

"So, you were still a bit of a brat, then," he remarked, and Edmund blushed, embarrassed.

"After the shock of being in Narnia had faded a bit," he responded, "I sort of went back to my old ways, for about a week."

"Why only a week?" Susan wanted to know.

"Because by the end of the first week, Orieus had knocked any bratty behavior straight out of me," Edmund answered, and Lucy giggled at the image that conjured up.

"Probably with both swords, right?" Peter asked, knowingly, and Edmund nodded.

"With great vigor," he said, smiling at the memory. "Luckily, I learned quickly, and well."

"What about you, Lucy?" Susan asked, and the younger girl looked at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?" she asked, in confusion.

"You came to Narnia twice before we came," Susan reminded her. "Did you meet anyone besides Mr. Tumnus?"

"I only met Mr. Tumnus," Lucy said. "But, he told me about some of his neighbors."

The siblings found themselves talking long into the night, as the sun sank slowly in the distance. Finally, the fires had died down, and Edmund carefully covered the still-glowing embers with dirt to extinguish them. Most of the camp had settled down for the night, with the first watch setting up at the perimeters to stand guard.

"I guess we should turn in?" Susan asked, looking around at the Creatures that were bedding down for the night.

"I'm not tired at all," Lucy protested, but her words were spoiled by the yawn that split her face.

"We do have a long ride ahead of us, tomorrow," Edmund said, helping his younger sister to her feet when she swayed against him, clearly tired. "And it's been a long day today."

"Longer for some of us than others," Peter commented, shooting him a pointed look.

Peter stood and offered a hand to Susan, who took it, rising gracefully. Then she let out a panicked shout when Peter collapsed on top of her, his face bone white and his shoulder soaked with blood. Edmund rolled Peter over onto his back, letting out a quiet oath when he took in the older boy's pain-filled grimace.

"He must have been injured in the battle with the Witch," Susan said, worry and anger coloring her tone. "Why didn't he tell any of us?"

"Because he's an idiot," Edmund growled. "Lucy, where's your cordial?"

The younger girl uncapped the crystal vial and, as Edmund ripped open the sleeve to Peter's shirt to reveal the nasty stab wound beneath, she dropped a single drop onto his skin. The wound puckered and closed in only a few seconds, and Peter's eyes fluttered open a moment later. He smiled weakly when he found himself under the intense scrutiny of his siblings, but Edmund pressed his lips together in a tight line.

"You should have told us you were hurt," he said, accusingly.

"I didn't think it was that serious," Peter protested.

"Well, clearly, you were wrong." This, from Susan, who was also still angry with her brother.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologized, but neither Edmund or Susan was budging.

"You're going straight to bed," Susan said, firmly, taking Peter's good arm and pulling him to his feet.

She marched her older brother to their tent, ignoring the feeble protests he made as they left. Lucy and Edmund watched them go, hiding their smiles behind their hands.

"Poor Peter," Lucy said, not bothering to hide her amusement.

"Susan can be as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be," Edmund agreed, and Lucy gave him an incredulous look.

"Don't let Susan hear you call her that," was all his little sister said.

"You need to get some sleep, too," Edmund reminded her, when Lucy yawned again.

"I'm just waiting for Susan to get Peter settled," Lucy told him.

She was silent, then, for several long minutes as she looked out at the quiet camp, listening to the songs of the night-birds in the trees.

"You said you'd always be there for me," she said, softly, after a moment.

Edmund felt his insides twist violently with guilt at her words, but then she continued.

"But, you were there for all of us," she went on, and Edmund looked at her in surprise.

Lucy looked back at him, the expression on her face far more mature than her eight years.

"You must have been very scared," Lucy said, when Edmund couldn't find any words to say. "I think I would have been."

"I was," Edmund admitted. "But I couldn't let her hurt anyone."

"You saved us," Lucy told him. "And then you came back to us."

"Lucy," Edmund began, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Lucy, I survived by Aslan's grace. I won't always be able to-"

"I know you won't always," Lucy said, solemnly, looking at him. "I know that, someday, you, Peter, or Susan might not come home. But, you came back this time."

Edmund nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he mulled over her words.

"I came back this time," he agreed, quietly.

They sat together for a while longer before Susan came looking for both of them.

"You both should be in bed," she admonished, gently.

"I was just coming," Lucy protested, as Susan pulled her to her feet.

"I'll come to bed in a little bit," Edmund promised, when Susan gave him an expectant look.

"Don't wander off," Susan implored him, before leading Lucy back to the tent.

Edmund sat by the banked fire for a while longer, making quiet conversation with the guards when they changed the watch. Finally, he stood up, intending to go to the tent and go to sleep, but instead, he started walking.

Restless, Edmund prowled around the edges of the camp. He couldn't go back to the tent when he was this wound up; he'd wake everyone else up and then no one would get any sleep. He was on his third circuit when he noticed Aslan sitting on the rocks overlooking the ocean, completely motionless.

He turned to Edmund as though sensing his presence, and Edmund was reminded of his first morning back in the camp and the conversation they'd had. Squaring his shoulders, he walked up the incline to join the Lion in his vigil.

"You took a grave chance, Edmund," Aslan said, quietly, turning to look at him.

"There was no chance," Edmund replied, unable to meet the Lion's eyes. "I knew the Witch would kill me. I did not expect to survive."

"Why did you go to her?" Aslan asked.

"You told me once that a king must do everything in his power to protect his people," Edmund said, a hint of stubbornness in his voice. "This was the only way for me to protect my people from the Witch invoking the Deep Magic."

"There was another way," Aslan reminded him, gently.

"Too many people have sacrificed themselves for me," Edmund argued, thinking about Auric's attempt to defend him from the Witch. "I won't let anyone else die for my mistakes."

"Sometimes," Aslan told him, his voice heavy, "there is no other choice."

Edmund looked out at the moonlight shining over the ocean, casting a silvery glow on Cair Paravel.

"There should be," he said, softly.


	15. Coming Home

**Author's Note: **New chapter; sorry it's so short, but there were some parts of this chapter that I really wanted written, and I couldn't figure out a way to include it in the coronation chapter. I want to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and especially everyone who's stuck with me from the beginning. You've all been incredibly patient with my erratic posting schedule.

Finally, be on the lookout for _Forged In Flame_, to be posted sometime soon. It's a companion piece to _Trial By Fire_, and it's the story of Edmund's first five years in Narnia.

**Chapter Fifteen: Coming Home**

The sun rose the next morning over an already-bustling camp. Tents were being dismantled and rolled up, clothes and bedrolls stored away in easy-to-carry bundles. Everything that could be packed away, was. A couple of Fauns who'd taken over the cooking duties for the camp were going around the camp, passing out cold sausage rolls to everyone working.

Susan and Lucy, who were working with Shanza, helping the Healer pack up her tent, accepted the breakfast offering with quiet, and in Lucy's case, sleepy thanks. Peter and Edmund were in the middle of pulling down the tent they'd shared with the girls the night before, when Peter paused, looking around at the organized chaos that had taken over the camp.

"How are we supposed to get all of this back to Cair Paravel?" he asked, curiously.

"We carry it," Edmund told him. "The tents will go on travois poles pulled by Philip, Perrin, and the Centaurs. The Gryphons will carry the lighter loads, the clothes and bedrolls. And we'll carry the rest on our backs."

"Why not use carts to carry everything?" Peter asked. "Wouldn't that be easier and faster than dragging everything on the ground?"

"Maybe," Edmund acknowledged, "but if we're attacked, it's easier to get rid of the travois so that everyone can fight."

"You're expecting us to be attacked?" Peter asked.

"You said it, yourself," Edmund told him. "The Witch could still have followers out there. And I wouldn't put it past any of them not to take the opportunity to attack us. We'll be wearing our armor-"

"I want Lucy to wear one of your old mail shirts," Peter interrupted, quietly, and Edmund nodded, immediately. He agreed wholeheartedly with anything that would keep his siblings safe.

"I can have Khyllian find one that should fit Lu," he told Peter.

"Majesties," Orieus spoke up from nearby. "The camp is almost packed, and everyone is readying to leave."

"We'll be just a few more minutes," Edmund promised him. "We just need to get our armor."

He and Peter finished rolling up the tent and strapping it to the travois they'd improvised out of the tent's own poles. Then they joined the other Creatures at what remained of the armory tent, as everyone donned their armor. Peter waved Susan and Lucy over, and their sisters joined them near Khyllian, who was conducting everyone to keep them in order while she took down her own tent, rolling the bright red cloth into a tight bundle.

"I will not miss living rough like this," the arms-mistress said, emphatically. "I'm looking forward to having a real armory, again. One with walls."

The longing in the Centaur's voice was so evident that Edmund found himself coughing to hide a fit of laughter.

"It wasn't as bad as it could have been," he offered. "At least it was warm, most of the time."

Grabbing a small chainmail shirt from where the armor had been stretched out on the ground, he held it up to Lucy, looking his younger sister with a critical eye.

"Try this one on," he suggested, holding the shirt out.

Lucy took the shirt and slipped it over her head, and the metal links fell down almost to her knees. The sleeves hung down past her fingertips until Edmund adjusted how it sat on her shoulders.

"Walk around, Majesty," Khyllian suggested, as she helped one of the Gryphons with his chest plates, moving back as the Creature shook himself to settle the armor on his body. "We need to make sure that you can still move around, freely."

Obligingly, Lucy walked around in a circle, twisting and bending as directed by her siblings.

"It feels strange," she said, after a few moments. "Like a very heavy dress."

"You'll get used to it," Edmund reassured her, even as he prayed that she would never have to become used to the feel of wearing armor. "Pretty soon, it won't even feel like you're wearing it."

"We'll be wearing armor all day?" Susan asked, as she pulled her own shirt of chainmail on, settling the collar of her dress over the neckline of the shirt, to keep the mail from chafing her skin.

"Just until we get to Cair Paravel," Peter said. "Just in case."

"It shouldn't be long, Majesty," a voice spoke up from behind them, and Edmund turned to see a young Centaur standing nearby.

Glorian bowed, stiffly, under Edmund's gaze. His eyes never leaving Edmund's, he spoke, in a voice almost too low for Edmund to hear.

"I wish to apologize, King Edmund, for my brash words, earlier. I was wrong, and I beg forgiveness."

Edmund was never comfortable with this sort of thing. In five years, he'd learned how to give orders, how to command armies, how to inspire confidence and make speeches. But he'd never quite gotten the hang of gracefully accepting public apologies, especially when it so clearly made the other one uncomfortable.

"Glorian, there's nothing to forgive," he said, but if anything, his words only made the young Centaur more uneasy.

"But I accused you of being a traitor," Glorian insisted, and he sounded distressed, shifting uneasily from one hoof to the other.

"And I was," Edmund told him, the revelation making Glorian stare at him in amazement, his tail twitching with surprise.

"You-" he began, a furious tone in his voice, but he was stopped by Khyllian moving forward into his path.

"Choose your words wisely, colt," the older Centaur said, quietly, and Glorian instinctively backed up a step at the warning he heard in Khyllian's voice.

Glorian took a deep breath, obviously trying to settle himself. When he faced Edmund again, he seemed calmer, his anger under control for the moment.

"I wish to understand why," he said. "Why you would betray Aslan, betray us all, to the White Witch."

"Let's go over there," Edmund told him, nodding at a spot away from the rest of the camp and walking toward it, knowing that Glorian would follow. After a moment, he heard quiet hoof beats on the ground behind him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Why doesn't Glorian just trust Edmund?" Peter asked, in frustration, watching as the pair walked away from them. "Everyone else does."

"Glorian is very young," Khyllian said with a sigh, "and, for him, the world is still black and white. He believes very strongly in you four, the saviors of Narnia, and to find out that Edmund is not perfect is quite a blow."

"None of us are," Susan pointed out.

"Something that Glorian is slowly beginning to understand," Khyllian answered. "And until he does, while he may obey your brother, he will not follow him."

Peter wasn't sure he understood the distinction that Khyllian was making, but he was sure that it was something that Edmund would understand. And that it was that gap that he was currently trying to bridge.

After a few minutes, Edmund and Glorian rejoined them, and whatever Edmund had said to the young Centaur seemed to have worked. He no longer seemed to be holding back his anger, it was no longer there, at least not that Peter could tell.

"Report to Orieus when you've finished getting your armor on," Edmund told him. "He'll get you set up with a travois and tell you where he wants you in the processional."

"I train for years to be a warrior, and I am reduced to pack animal," Glorian said, but there was no rancor in his voice, only a wry amusement.

"Is everything settled, then?" Peter asked as they walked away, leaving Glorian in Khyllian's capable hands.

"Getting there," Edmund answered. "It'll just take some time."

"Are we ready to go?" Susan broke in. "I think everyone is starting to get restless."

"It is getting late in the day," Orieus said, coming up to stand beside them. "We should be on our way."

He directed Peter and his siblings near the front of the processional, surrounding them with heavily-armed Centaurs on either side. The Hounds and Bertran patrolled the outer edge of the group, on alert for any risks, and the Gryphons took to the skies, joined by the Falcons, Hawks, and Eagles of the army.

"Wait a minute," Peter asked, looking around the group as they were about to leave. "Where's Aslan? Isn't he coming with us to Cair Paravel?"

"Aslan has gone on ahead," Orieus answered, "He is warning the stewards, so that they will prepare Cair Paravel for our arrival."

"I don't think anyone would be very happy if a group this large just showed up on their doorstep, completely unexpectedly," Susan chimed in. "It's only fair that we give them some time."

"But at this rate, we'll never get there!" Lucy complained, good-naturedly.

"We'll be leaving soon enough," Edmund reassured her, helping her with her pack, making sure that the straps didn't catch on her shirt.

Picking up the pack at his feet, Peter slung it over his shoulders. Then, he buckled Rhindon around his waist, feeling the comforting grip of the hilt under his hand. He looked over at Edmund who nodded at him, giving the rest of the group a significant look. They're waiting for you, he seemed to be saying.

"Let's move out!" Peter called out, his voice carrying to the far ends of the group.

Everyone surged forward, eager to leave the trampled-down camp for what awaited them at Cair Paravel. Soon, the group had settled into a steady pace, the air filled with the low buzz of conversation. Peter could hear snatches every now and then, mostly chatter about how excited everyone was to be finally going to Cair Paravel, or what the upcoming coronation was going to be like.

"You know," Susan remarked, as she and Peter fell into step beside Edmund and Lucy, "now that we have all of this time free, you could tell us more about your time in Narnia."

"Oh, please, Edmund!" Lucy chimed in, eagerly. "You hardly told us anything last night."

"All right," Edmund agreed, easily. "So, Philip and I had just arrived in camp-"

Edmund had been talking for a few hours when a shrill scream overhead broke into his words. Peter looked up, shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, watching as one of the Gryphon scouts circled overhead, seeming to be looking for something. Suddenly, the Gryphon went into a steep dive, headed straight for Peter and his siblings.

They scrambled to get out of the way, clearing a spot for the Gryphon to land. As the Gryphon got closer, Peter recognized one of the Gryphon's he'd been introduced to a few days ago. The Gryphon looked familiar, with the black stripes on his wings standing out in sharp relief to his light gray feathers, and after a moment, Peter remembered that he was Baern, one of the reserve scouts during the battle.

Baern back-winged furiously, kicking up a massive cloud of dust as he landed, bracing himself on his back legs, a rock clutched in his front talons. When the dust cleared, Peter realized that the rock the Gryphon held was actually a statue of a lunging Fox, a snarl fixed firmly on its stone face.

"Majesty," Baern gasped out, his beak hanging open as he panted with exertion. "Majesty, look who I found!"

Reaching out, Edmund gently took the Fox's still stone body from Baern's outstretched talons.

"Is this the Fox who defended you from the Witch?" Susan asked, and Edmund nodded, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"He saved my life," he said, his voice husky with choked emotion.

"Maybe we can save his," Peter suggested. "Lucy's cordial?" he prompted, when his siblings looked at him in confusion.

"Of course!" Lucy said, happily, pulling the cordial off her belt.

Unscrewing the top, she tipped the bottle over, slowly, letting a single drop fall onto the Fox's stone body. The stone surface shimmered and rippled, a dusky red color slowly replacing the dark gray. Then, the Fox came alive with a startled yelp, twisting in Edmund's arms and almost falling to the ground before Edmund tightened his grip, catching him.

"Where-" the Fox demanded, and then he craned his head around to look at Edmund, a look of profound relief crossing his vulpine features.

"Are you all right, Auric?" Edmund asked, worriedly.

"Yes, Majesty," the Fox answered. "And it is good to see you well."

He was craning his head around even as Edmund set him on the ground, looking for something.

"Bandera and the kits are with the Bears," Edmund told him, watching as Auric took off like a shot in the direction indicated.

Up ahead, they could hear Bandera's happy cry when she saw Auric, followed by an excited chorus of "Papa, papa!"

"Well done, Lu," Edmund praised his younger sister.

"Well done for Peter to have remembered her cordial," Susan pointed out. "Otherwise, we would have had to wait until we saw Aslan at Cair Paravel."

"Speaking of," Peter said, turning to Baern, "did you see how close we are to arriving?"

"Not long, now," Baern replied. "We're only a few miles out."

"Good," Susan said, fervently, as they hurried to catch up to the rest of the processional. "I want a real bath."

"Me, too," Lucy chimed in, and Peter found himself agreeing with his sisters.

He hadn't ever remembered feeling quite so dirty before. He was relishing the opportunity to finally feel clean for the first time in days.

"If you'd like, Majesty," Baern broke in, looking at Lucy, "I could carry you ahead of the processional to see Cair Paravel."

"A Gryphon-back flight?" Peter said, skeptically.

"It's perfectly safe," Edmund assured him. "I've done it dozens of times."

"All right," Peter relented, when Lucy looked at him, pleadingly.

The Gryphon bent low, spreading his wings for balance as Lucy scrambled up onto his broad back. She clamped her knees firmly behind his wing joints, leaning forward until she was lying almost flat against his back. Burying her hands in the mess of feathers around his neck, she got a good grip on the fur underneath.

Pumping his wings, slowly, Baern went up on his hind legs and pushed off from the ground, snapping his wings out and catching the wind, gliding over the heads of the army. Lucy's delighted shriek carried back to them, and Peter grinned at how happy his little sister sounded. Then, he, Edmund, and Susan broke into a jog to catch up to the rest of the army.

The rest of the trip went by fast, and after a while, Baern deposited Lucy back with her siblings. The four made their way back to the front of the processional, and a short quarter-mile later, they got their first good look at Cair Paravel.

"It's beautiful," Lucy gasped, a sentiment that Susan quickly echoed.

"It's huge," Edmund pointed out, craning his neck to look up at the highest turrets.

But, as Peter looked at the castle, he had something entirely different in mind.

"It's home," he said, quietly.


	16. Mending Rifts

**Author's Note: **This one really threw me for a loop. It was supposed to be short, happy, and about the coronation. Well, we haven't hit the coronation, yet, the length really got away from me, and it's an emotional mess. But, it's also one of my favorites. Hope you enjoy.

Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. I love getting your feedback and hearing what you all think.

**A/N2: **Edmund's sword, Shafelm is borrowed from **elecktrum**, with her permission.

**Chapter Sixteen: Mending Rifts**

_'It really is magnificent,'_ Edmund thought, looking up at the castle that loomed over them.

The view that he'd seen only at a distance for the past five years was even more spectacular up close. Cair Paravel, an enormous construction of beige stone, looked like it had been built directly out of the cliffs overlooking the Eastern Ocean. Stairs at the edge of the cliff led to multi-leveled terraces forming the walls of the castle. Hundreds of windows sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.

Grinning in anticipation at what awaited them, the siblings led the climb up the gently-sloping paths that wound up the side of the cliff.

The top of the cliff overlooking the ocean was covered in lush, vibrant grass, with brightly-colored flowers dotting the landscape. From his vantage point at the top of the cliff, Edmund thought that he could see for miles out on the ocean, the water a deep, glittering blue. There were specks in the distance that could have been islands, and flocks of sea-birds were circling the skies overhead.

Arriving at the castle, the army came to a stop in the main courtyard, milling around the fountain in the center as they unloaded their packs and the travois. The fountain, a simple but elegant structure made of white stone, had clear, cold water gurgling out from the top tier, and Edmund sank gratefully down to sit on the edge of the fountain, shedding his heavy pack and letting the spray of the water rain down over him.

Leaning back, he braced his hands on the edge of the fountain to keep from falling over, and closed his eyes, sighing in contentment as the cool water fell onto his upturned face. He didn't want to admit it to his siblings, especially Peter who would only worry, needlessly, but the trek from the camp at the Stone Table had worn him out more than he'd expected it to. It was taking nearly all of the energy he had left just to keep from falling over.

The sound of hoof beats on the stones paving the courtyard had him straightening up, and he opened his eyes to see Philip standing over him. There was a distinctly worried air about the Horse as he nudged Edmund's shoulder with his nose, gently.

"You," the stallion said, quietly, "need to find someplace dark and quiet, and lie down."

"I'm fine, Philip," Edmund protested, automatically, but the protest sounded weak, even to his ears.

"You promised that you would lie down," Philip said, stubbornly. "Or, do I have to get your brother to sit on you?" he continued, threateningly.

"That's not going to be necessary, Philip," Susan spoke up from beside him, and Edmund twisted around to see his older sister watching him with a worried frown on her face.

"Peter and Lucy have things well in hand, here," she continued, gesturing to where the oldest and youngest Pevensies were directing everyone around the courtyard, keeping things from descending into chaos. "I'll help Edmund get to his room."

"Su," Edmund protested, immediately, and his sister fixed him with a steely look.

"Ed," she returned, calmly, not backing down an inch, and Edmund sighed, knowing that this was one argument he was going to lose.

He held out a hand for Susan to pull him to his feet, resigned to the face that he needed the help. Leaning into Susan's embrace as she wrapped an arm around his waist, he let his sister lead him across the courtyard and into the castle.

He looked around as they walked through the castle, but by that pint, he was so tired that he couldn't really appreciate the beauty of everything that surrounded them. The room was spinning, slightly, as he walked, making him dizzy, and he finally closed his eyes, trusting Susan to lead him where they needed to go.

She steered him around a corner and down a hallway, and shortly they stopped. Edmund slowly opened his eyes to see a Naiad standing in the hallway in front of them.

"Your Majesties," the Naiad said, "may I be of assistance?"

"Could you show us to Edmund's room, please?" Susan asked, and the Naiad nodded, gracefully.

"This way, Your Majesties," she said, her voice a musical lilt. She turned and continued down the main hallway, and Susan steered Edmund after her.

As they walked down the hallway, or in Edmund's case, stumbled down the hallway, he found himself almost mesmerized by the sheen of the Naiad's dark blue hair that fell down her back like a waterfall. Her skin was a pale shade of blue, almost like a clear lake. Watching her move, at least in Edmund's foggy state, was like watching waves move across the water.

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his disjointed thoughts by the Naiad stopping in front of a door. Opening it, she ushered them into a suite of rooms.

"Would you like me to draw up a bath, Majesty?" the Naiad asked, quietly.

"Please," Susan replied, and as the Naiad vanished into one of the other rooms, she turned back to Edmund and started helping him out of his armor.

"Orieus isn't going to be very happy that my armor isn't down in the armory," he commented, but he writhed out of his hauberk, nonetheless, sighing in relief as even that light weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"I'll carry your armor back down after you're done," Susan promised him, adding the mail shirt to the pile of armor on the floor at the foot of the lush, velvet couch in the main sitting room.

By the time they'd gotten his armor off, the Naiad had reappeared from the bathroom, and a cloud of steam billowed out from behind the partially-closed door.

"Your bath is ready, Majesty," she said to Edmund, who by then only had the energy to nod in reply. To Susan, she added, "I have added some fragrant herbs to the water that have potent healing abilities."

"Thank you," Susan said, gratefully, as she steered Edmund toward the smaller room.

"I am Nalene," the Naiad said, as she left the room. "Please call on me if there is anything else you need."

"We will," Susan assured her, and Nalene let the door shut softly behind her.

Edmund leaned on Susan for the few steps it took to cross the sitting room, but he stopped her before she could follow him into the bathroom.

"I can handle things from here," he assured his sister, who nodded, reluctantly.

"I'll be just right outside," she told him, dropping a quick kiss onto his forehead before he went into the smaller room.

The room was warm, with steam still rising from the bathtub. Even from where he was standing by the door, Edmund could smell the heady scent of something that smelled faintly like lavender that filled the room. There was a large, ornately-decorated mirror hanging over the sink that was already fogged over with condensation, and Edmund covered the side of his hand with his shirtsleeve before wiping at the mirror, leaving a clean streak across the glass surface.

His reflection in the mirror startled him, and he knew now why Philip had been so insistent that he go and rest. Dark circles under his eyes only highlighted the hollowed-out appearance of the rest of his face. There was a cut on his lip and a dark bruise on his cheek that throbbed, painfully, when he gingerly probed at it, making him hiss with pain at the contact. And when he slowly stripped out of his clothes, he saw that the rest of his body was covered in similar bruises, all dark and ugly.

He'd been hoping that he magic of Lucy's cordial would have healed the bruises, and the soreness that went along with them, but he figured that there'd been enough to heal with the death-wounds dealt by the Witch. He also figured that a few bruises were preferable to what might have happened.

Most prominent were a pair of nasty bruises surrounding wounds that had healed to long scars. There was one on his abdomen, and another almost directly over his heart, and he went cold at the thought of how close he'd been to death both times.

_'You've blessed me more than I deserve, Aslan,'_ he thought, somberly, and then he looked around in shock when the sound of a Lion's growl filled the small room. But, he was alone in the room.

The phantom sound that had filled the room was gone so quickly that he could almost believe that he'd imagined it. But, he'd been in Narnia long enough to know better.

_'Do you really think so poorly of yourself?' _he could almost hear Aslan scolding him, and he smiled in spite of himself.

"Ed!" Susan called, suddenly, from the other side of the door. "Is everything all right in there? You haven't drowned, have you?"

Edmund heard the worry in her voice, and he could just picture his sister getting ready to charge through the door if he didn't give her a satisfactory answer.

"I'm fine, Su," he assured her. "I haven't actually started my bath, yet."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" came the exasperated reply. "If you wait any longer, the water is going to get cold."

"I'm going," Edmund grumbled, as he stepped into the tub and slowly lowered himself into the water.

Despite Susan's threat, the water was still hot, although not painfully so, and he sighed as he sank down almost to his neck in the hot water. Reaching out, he snagged a bar of soap off of a shelf inset in the wall and started running it over his arms and chest, scrubbing at the coating of dirt that seemed to cover him from head to toe.

Shortly, the clear water had turned dark with grime, and he leaned forward to pull the plug at the bottom, watching as the dirty water swirled down the drain. Replacing the plug, he turned the tap to let more hot water spill into the tub. Then, with the water once more up to his neck, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the high back of the tub, letting the heat soak into his bones.

What seemed like only seconds later, he opened his eyes to the sound of pounding on the door.

"Edmund, I swear, if you don't answer me right this second, I'm coming in there!" The anxiety was clear in Susan's voice, even to Edmund's fuzzy brain.

"Sorry, Su," he apologized, and he could hear his sister sigh in relief at the sound of his voice. "I guess I must have fallen asleep."

"God, Ed!" Susan choked out, and to his surprise, she sounded like she was holding back tears. "You weren't answering – I thought something had happened to you!"

"I'm sorry," Edmund said, suspecting that he was apologizing for more than just falling asleep in the bathtub. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard Susan burst into hastily-muffled sobs.

Climbing carefully out of the tub, he dried himself off with one of the big, fluffy towels that Nalene had left sitting on the edge of the counter. There was also a robe, dyed dark blue and made of a luxuriously soft material, hanging on the back of the door. Slipping it on, he went out into the sitting room, where he found Susan sitting on the edge of the couch, scrubbing at the tears in her eyes as she tried to get herself back under control.

"Su?" he said, quietly, sitting down next to her, and without warning she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, holding on like she was never going to let go.

Susan buried her face in his shoulder, and he could feel her shaking with suppressed sobs. Edmund had a feeling that he wasn't going to get any sense out of his older sister for a while, so he just wrapped his arms around her and held on while she cried like her heart was breaking. Finally, Susan cried herself out, and she reluctantly pulled away from Edmund to look at him with eyes that were red-rimmed and puffy.

"Do you know how close we came to losing you back there?" she demanded, anger and fear warring for dominance in her voice. "You just – you gave yourself to the Witch-"

"I'm sorry," Edmund repeated, not knowing anything else to say. "I didn't – there was no other choice, Su. She would have destroyed Narnia."

"Did you even think about how we would feel if you were gone?" Susan went on, her voice cracking. "How were we supposed to go on without you?"

"I – I didn't think," Edmund finally admitted, his voice coming out in barely more than a whisper. "I thought that you would be better off without me."

"How could you think that?" Susan cried, but Edmund just shook his head, helplessly.

"I betrayed everyone," he said, faltering at the furious look that flashed through Susan's eyes.

"You saved everyone," she corrected him. "Ed, if you hadn't-" She broke off, tears choking her voice. "Peter might have died out on the battlefield, if not for you," she continued, softer. "Lucy and I – how could you think that we'd be better off without you?"

"I was just trying to make things right," Edmund said, softly, staring down at his hands. "To make up for what I'd done."

"You've more than done that," Susan assured him. Edmund nodded, but he still wasn't completely convinced.

"I should have trusted Aslan to keep you all safe," he said, quietly.

"And we should have trusted you about Narnia," Susan replied, meeting Edmund's incredulous look with her own firm gaze. "If Peter and I hadn't doubted you, if we'd just listened, maybe none of this ever would have happened."

"We don't know that," Edmund protested, but Susan shook her head.

"My point is," she told him, overriding his protests, "we all make mistakes. But, everything turned out all right in the end."

"Weren't you just yelling at me for getting hurt in the first place?" Edmund asked, trying to find a reason for Susan's sudden shift in attitude.

"You're a hard one to stay mad at," she told him, affectionately. "Just, please try not to ever scare us like that, again."

"I'll try," Edmund promised, leaning into Susan's embrace when she hugged him, hard.

"You still need to get some rest," she said, as she pulled away. "You promised Philip that you would get some sleep, and I promised that I would see that you get it."

"I'm not really that tired," Edmund protested, but his words were mostly just for show, and it was ruined when he yawned, feeling his jaw pop from the strain.

"You're as bad as Lucy," Susan chided him. "Just go to sleep, Ed."

"Yes, Mum," Edmund teased, and Susan groaned, pushing him over on the couch.

Then, just as he was getting comfortable on the couch, Susan grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet, propelling him toward the bedroom. The room was dark, with heavy curtains pulled over the windows to block out the sunlight, and he couldn't see much of the room except for the bed in front of him, which Susan pushed him down onto.

Taking the hint, Edmund scooted down on the bed until his head rested on the pillow. Snagging the blanket at the foot of the bed, Susan pulled the covers over him, and Edmund snuggled into the warmth, sighing with contentment.

The hot bath had worked wonders, not only easing the pain that he'd felt for most of the day, but making him so relaxed that he was having a hard time staying awake. Just lying still for a few seconds was enough to make him feel drowsy, and he could feel his eyelids growing heavy. Just before blackness overtook him, he felt Susan ruffle his hair, affectionately.

"Sleep well," Ed," she whispered.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX**

Peter stepped into the kitchens – and narrowly avoided being run over by a Faun who was burdened down with heavily-laden platters of food. The Faun had an angry look on his face that quickly morphed to surprise, and then a nearly-comical terror, as he realized who he'd almost run into.

"My apologies, King Peter," he said, nervously, dancing backward quickly out of Peter's way, and almost losing the platters in the process when his hooves slipped on the tiled floor.

Peter moved forward quickly to help the Faun steady the platters, and the Creature turned bright red at the assistance, stammering out yet another apology. Seeing the commotion, an older Faun with a graying beard swiftly crossed the kitchen to intervene.

"Take those out to the main dining room," he instructed the younger one, who looked relieved to be able to leave the kitchen without appearing rude. "And, Martil," he called out, freezing the young Faun in his tracks as he made to flee from the kitchen, "ensure that they remain covered."

Martil's response was lost in the clattering of dishes, and the older Faun sighed, shaking his head in exasperation as he watched Martil disappear from view.

"He will be the death of us, yet," he muttered, but when he turned his attention back to Peter, he was all business, again.

"Welcome to the kitchens, Majesty. I am Vaius, Steward of the Court," he said, courteously. "How may I help you?"

"I'm sorry if I scared him," Peter said, still looking after Martil.

"Martil has been working himself up into a state ever since Aslan brought news of your impending arrival," Vaius told him. "Honestly, his reaction was much calmer than I had been anticipating."

"I guess I'm just not used to people being nervous around me," Peter explained.

"Was there something you needed, Majesty?" Vaius asked him, again. "We are preparing the feast for the Coronation later tonight, but if you are hungry, I'm sure we could find something for you."

"Actually," Peter said, "I was hoping I could see what goes on in here. If you don't mind."

"Watch?" Vaius said, dubiously. "You want to watch us work?"

"Well, I've already seen a lot of the castle," Peter said. "Edmund is sleeping and Susan and Lucy are busy doing girl things-"

He trailed off, awkwardly, and Vaius must have seen something in his expression that made the Faun take pity on him, because he nodded, abruptly.

"If you'd like to stand over there," he said, gesturing to a corner where a high-backed stool stood against the wall. "Everyone back to work!" he continued, clapping his hands briskly and startling everyone who'd stopped what they were doing to gape at Peter.

Settling on the stool, where he'd be out of the way of the activity, Peter watched as the startled Creatures jumped to get back to their duties, most very conspicuously not looking over at Peter. The few who weren't going out of their way to ignore him kept shooting him quick glances, their expressions filled with something akin to awe. Peter found himself shifting uncomfortably under the close scrutiny.

As he watched the feast being prepared, Peter was amazed at what he saw. What first appeared to be complete chaos was actually a model of efficiency. Everyone working in the kitchen had something to do, and no one was idle for more than a few seconds. They moved through the kitchen in an intricate dance, weaving around each other gracefully.

Until one particularly-flustered Faun, who'd been tripping over his hooves every time he looked at Peter, stumbled while holding a pot of boiling water. Peter jumped up from his seat, trying to catch the pot before it hit the ground, but he was too slow, and the pot clattered to the tiles, the boiling water splashing up and soaking a nearby Dryad.

The tree sylph cried out in pain when the hot water soaked into her bark-like skin. Changing course, Peter snatched the pitcher of ice water that someone shoved into his hands, throwing it at the Dryad's legs where burns from the hot water were already starting to form. The Dryad whimpered in pain when the cold water hit her blistering skin, and Vaius immediately hurried over to her, keeping the young Dryad from falling to the ground.

"Martil, Corvis!" he snapped, and a pair of Fauns immediately came to his side. "Take Linsli to the Healers immediately."

The Fauns took Linsli's weight from Vaius, helping her out of the kitchens. Vaius then turned to the rest of the staff.

"Someone pass me a towel to get this water mopped up," he said. "Everyone else, back to work."

"If you're shorthanded," Peter offered, watching Vaius mop up the water, "I could help out."

Silence rang through the kitchen at his words, and Peter once again found himself the center of attention as everyone stopped and stared at him in shock. Even Vaius looked stunned at his offer. They stared at him for so long, that Peter was starting to wonder if he'd made some sort of mistake. Then, Vaius gave him a long, measuring look.

"Peel vegetables," he said, shortly, pointing at a clear spot at one of the counters where a pile of carrots and potatoes were waiting.

Without waiting for an answer, Vaius turned his back to supervise some other part of the preparations, leaving Peter to make his way over to the counter. He quickly washed his hands at a nearby sink, and then, taking a knife passed to him by one of the other workers, he started peeling the vegetables.

He worked carefully and precisely with the small blade, and got so caught up in what he was doing that he missed Martil and Corvis's reappearance in the kitchen. He only knew they were there when Martil cleared his throat quietly behind Peter's shoulder, looking pointedly down at the small pile of peeled vegetables sitting in front of him.

"If you would like, Majesty," he said. "I will take over, now."

Peter was about to insist that he was fine, and then he took a closer look at his work and saw that he'd only made a small dent in the large pile in all the time that the Fauns had been gone. Taking a quick look around the rest of the kitchen, he realized that he was probably the slowest person there, and probably holding things up.

He relinquished his spot to Martil, who started peeling the rest of the vegetables with remarkable speed. Idly, Peter looked around the kitchen, wondering if he should offer to help with anything else, when Vaius appeared at his shoulder.

"Perhaps I could arrange a tour of the castle for you, Majesty?" the Faun suggested, politely.

"Oh, Lucy and I already went exploring," Peter said, but Vaius cut him off, gently.

"But, the castle is very large," he interrupted. "Surely, you could not have seen everything Cair Paravel has to offer."

There was something akin to desperation in the older Faun's tone, and then Peter realized what was going on.

"You'd like me to leave, wouldn't you?" he asked, in understanding. "I'm getting in the way."

Vaius looked like he was considering how to best phrase his reply, but finally settled on a blunt, "Yes." Peter found himself grinning at the Faun's abrupt demeanor.

"I'll be going, then," he said, and he could have sworn he heard quiet sighs of relief from around the kitchen, something he chose not to be offended by. "It was a pleasure meeting you all."

"The pleasure was ours, Majesty," Vaius told him, giving Peter a quick bow before he ducked out of the small room.

Having been summarily dismissed from the kitchens, Peter was at a loss for what to do. Anywhere he went to watch the preparations for the Coronation would probably be a place where he would only get in the way. And Susan and Lucy were probably still busy with their girl things, that he'd really rather know nothing about. That only left Edmund, and his brother was still sleeping.

_'Still,'_ Peter thought, _'it wouldn't hurt to go and check on him.'_

After getting directions to Edmund's rooms from a passing Naiad, Peter walked down the hallway, admiring the beautiful tapestries on the walls as he went. There were scenes of battles, beautifully woven even for their subject matter. There were also several that depicted what looked like coronations, men and women kneeling before Aslan to be crowned. One tapestry, in particular, was striking, showing a Lion, it had to be Aslan, standing on a hill, light coming down behind him. After he saw that one, Peter took another look at the others, and realized that they were in a sort of order.

"The Creation of Narnia," a voice spoke up from nearby, and Peter looked down to see Auric sitting on the ground near his feet, looking up at the tapestries.

There were a pair of Fox kits with him, and when they started squabbling, Auric absently turned and batted the kits away from one another, separating them from fighting.

"But she started it, Papa!" the smaller of the kits cried, indignantly.

"Because he bit me!" his sister said, glaring at her brother.

"Edrich, if you and Calaen do not behave," Auric said, long-suffering patience in his voice, "then neither of you will be allowed to attend the Coronation."

"But, Papa!" they protested, immediately, in their high-pitched voices.

"Enough," Auric said, cutting off their protests, a note of finality in his voice. "Now, say goodbye to King Peter."

"Goodbye, King Peter," they chorused, and Peter had to bite back a grin at the innocent expressions on their faces.

Especially when, seconds later, Calaen pounced on Edrich, making him squeal, and then the two of them shot down the hall. Sighing, Auric gave chase after them, his voice carrying back down the hall as he threatened his children to bed without dessert. Chuckling, Peter continued down the hall until he'd reached Edmund's room.

Knocking lightly on the door, Peter called out a quiet "Ed? You awake?"

When he didn't get an answer, he opened the door slowly, and was greeted by the sight of an empty room, with no sign of Edmund.

Rushing into the room, Peter turned in a quick circle before darting into the bathroom and then out onto the balcony, hoping that Edmund would be there. But, both places were empty. He checked the bedroom, hoping to find Edmund still fast asleep, buried under a mound of blankets, but the bed was empty, the covers thrown back toward the foot of the bed.

_'Don't panic,'_ Peter told himself, firmly, as he went back out into the sitting room. _'Just because Ed's not here, doesn't mean that something has happened to him. You're in Cair Paravel; nothing could possibly get to him, here.'_

But, he couldn't stop the racing of his heart, the instinctive jolt of fear when he realized that his brother was, once again, missing. It was like being in Beaversdam all over again, when he found out that Edmund had disappeared.

"Stop it," Peter said, out loud, trying to convince himself that everything was fine. "Edmund is somewhere in the castle; you just have to find him."

"Your Majesty?" a startled voice spoke up from behind him, and Peter whirled around to see a Naiad standing in the doorway of Edmund's suite, a confused look on her face. "Are you speaking to someone, Majesty?"

"Just myself," Peter reassured her, but the Naiad didn't look any less confused. "Do you know where I could find my brother, Edmund?" he asked, hastily.

The Naiad dipped her head in a slow nod. "This way, Majesty," she said, turning and gliding back down the hallway.

Peter hurried out of the room after her, falling into step beside the Naiad when he caught up to her.

"King Edmund wished to find a quiet place to think," the Naiad said, as they walked. "I showed him to the Sun Altar."

The Naiad led him through a maze of hallways and staircases, all going up. She was silent, except when Peter asked a question, but he couldn't tell if her reticence was due to nerves or if it was just her natural personality.

They walked for an interminable amount of time, so much so that Peter was sure they'd walked the length of Cair Paravel twice over. He couldn't see how there was anywhere left to go. It was then that the Naiad stopped at a simple wooden door at the top of the staircase they'd been climbing.

"This is the Sun Altar," she said, pushing the door open.

Peter stepped into the Sun Altar, and then found himself gaping in amazement at the sight before him. The only wall in the room was the one the door was set in; everything else was windows. Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating everything.

The centerpiece was a magnificent stained glass Lion Rampant backed by a blazing sun that took up the windows opposite the door. There were lush green plants in the corners that grew all the way up to the glass ceiling. Curtains were scattered on the floor and on either side of the door were benches of a golden, honey-colored wood.

And kneeling in the middle of the room facing the Lion Rampant was Edmund, his head bowed low.

As Peter cautiously approached his brother, he could see Edmund's lips moving silently. It looked like he was praying, and Peter found himself loathe to interrupt what seemed to be a private moment. Instead, he prowled the edges of the Sun Altar, admiring the amazing view from the tower. Stopping at the Lion Rampant to study it closer, he saw words etched into the glass around the Lion.

"Shafelm, Revieré, Etoille," he murmured, under his breath, running his finger lightly under the words.

"Faith, hope, and love," Edmund spoke up from behind him, and Peter turned to see his brother studying the Lion Rampant. There was a peaceful look on his face, one that Peter hadn't seen for years. "The virtues that all Narnians live by."

"And we're going to have to uphold those virtues," Peter said, realizing just what a daunting task lay before them. "Ed, we're going to be kings."

"Scary, isn't it?" Edmund asked, wryly.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," Peter admitted, quietly.

"Then it's a good thing you're not alone," Edmund told him. "You've got Susan, Lucy-"

"And you," Peter finished for him. At Edmund's surprised look, he continued, "Ed, I don't know that I'd be able to do this without you at my side."

Edmund blinked and stared at him in shock, clearly not expecting to hear such raw honesty from his brother.

"I-" he started, and then he trailed off, still staring at Peter in disbelief.

"I mean it, Ed," Peter told him, earnestly. "We wouldn't be here, if it wasn't for you. _I_ wouldn't be here," he added, quietly.

"You sound like Susan," Edmund muttered, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Well, whatever she told you, she was right," Peter stated, firmly.

Edmund nodded, not speaking for several moments. When he finally did, his voice was so quiet that Peter could barely hear him.

"I wasn't expecting to come back," he said, softly, his gaze fixed firmly out of the windows, not looking over at Peter. "I thought, when I went to the Witch, that I was going to die."

Peter took a shaky breath, remembering that morning back in camp. The first moment of disbelief, of being unable to comprehend what was in front of him. And then, the crushing sense of grief, the bleakness that had filled him when he realized that Edmund wasn't coming back. That his brother was dead.

"We thought we'd lost you," Peter told him. "I thought I'd failed you."

"Failed?" Edmund echoed, confused. "Failed at what?"

"At protecting you," Peter said, fiercely. Without giving Edmund a chance to respond, he rushed on. "I'm the oldest; it's my job to protect this family. I promised Mum."

"You did," Edmund began, but Peter cut him off.

"I didn't," he insisted, feeling tears spring to his eyes that he dashed away, harshly, with the back of his hand. "You gave yourself up to the Witch, Susan had to go to war-"

"You did the best you could," Edmund told him, quietly. "We all did."

"But, why did you go at all?" Peter demanded, feeling a sudden, irrational surge of anger at his younger brother. "She gave up her claim on your life."

Edmund was silent for so long that Peter was worried that he'd offended him. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the view outside the windows to look at Peter. There were tears in his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was shaking with emotion.

"Only because Aslan gave her His life," he said, and Peter was floored by the revelation. "He would have died for my mistake," Edmund continued, quietly. "I couldn't let that happen."

"So, you thought that it would be better to give up your own life," Peter said, and Edmund looked away again, but not before Peter saw the hurt in his expression.

"I'm sorry," was all Edmund said, but it was enough for Peter.

Bridging the gap between them, he wrapped his arms around Edmund in a hug that was hard enough to make him squeak. After a moment, Edmund returned the embrace, tentatively wrapping his arms around Peter's waist, and then holding on tighter when he realized that Peter wasn't going to let go. He buried his face in Peter's shoulder, and Peter could feel him shaking in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "Peter, I'm sorry. All I wanted was to see you, again."

"It's all right," Peter murmured, under his breath, rubbing circles in Edmund's back. "It's going to be all right."

Leaning against the windows, Peter slid to the floor, taking Edmund with him. Then, once they were sitting, he wrapped his arms more firmly around Edmund's waist, holding on while his brother shook with silent sobs, lost in his own memories.

Finally, after so long that Peter started to numb where he sat, Edmund pulled away from him, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm glad I got that out of the way before the coronation," he joked, weakly.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, not willing to be distracted from his brother's long-overdue emotional outburst.

"I think so," Edmund said, after thinking about it.

Sighing quietly, he leaned over so that his head was resting on Peter's shoulder, and Peter ran his fingers idly through Edmund's hair.

"I don't know that I could have been that brave," Peter said, and a hint of a smile ghosted across Edmund's face.

"Where do you think I learned it from?" he asked, rhetorically.

Peter returned his brother's smile, and they lapsed into silence.

"Shafelm," Peter said, after they'd sat in silence for several minutes. When Edmund shot him a curious look, he elaborated, "I think that's what you should call your sword. Shafelm. Faith."

"Shafelm," Edmund repeated, looking up at the Lion rampant.

"It suits you," Peter told him, when he still looked uncertain. "Ed, you lived here, alone, for five years, not knowing if you'd be able to get home. If anyone has faith, it's you."

"Shafelm it is, then," Edmund agreed. "Suppose we should get going," he suggested, a few seconds later, but neither of them made any move toward the door at the far side of the room.

Instead, they stayed where they were sitting, watching the play of shadows as the sun changed position in the sky. It was there that their sisters found them, nearly half an hour later.

"There you are!" Lucy exclaimed. "Where have you been? We have to get ready."

"Ready for what?" Peter asked, and Susan shot him a disbelieving look.

"Ready for the coronation," she said, pointedly. "You can't mean to be crowned kings looking like that."

"I don't know," Peter said, "I think we look fine."

He grinned, inviting Edmund to share in the joke, and his younger brother snickered, hiding his smile behind his hand. Susan heaved a put-upon sigh and glared at them both until they got to their feet. Then, they were herded out of the Sun Altar and down to Peter's suite by their sisters, both of them hustling them along, impatiently.

Four sets of royal garb had been carefully laid out on the couch in the main sitting room, dresses for the girls, and tunics and hose for him and Edmund. Picking up their dresses from where they'd been stretched out, Susan and Lucy disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door behind them, leaving the bathroom for him and Edmund.

Grabbing his clothes, Peter followed Edmund into the bathroom, where his brother was already stripping out of his regular clothes. As he pulled his shirt off, Peter hissed in sympathy when he saw the scars marking Edmund's chest and torso.

"Do you think those are ever going to go away?" he asked, reaching out and lightly tracing one of the scars with his fingertips.

"I think I'm stuck with them," Edmund answered.

"Well, better that than the alternative," Peter decided, and Edmund nodded in wordless agreement.

Reaching out to the pile of his clothes, Peter slipped on the dark blue velvet tunic, and then had to take it off again when he realized that he'd forgotten the undershirt. Edmund, chuckling softly under his breath, managed to get himself dressed with far more grace than Peter was showing.

Edmund's clothes were all shades of a dark silvery-gray, with the tunic a darker shade than the hose. Peter's own colors were dark blue, with golden hose and golden accents on the tunic. And when he went back into the sitting room, he saw a cape of the same golden color waiting for him.

He'd slipped the cape over his shoulders and was trying to figure out the clasp when he heard a throat being cleared, quietly, from behind him. Turning, he saw a pair of Naiads standing in the doorway, one of whom came over to them, while the other crossed the room to where Susan and Lucy were getting dressed, knocking lightly on the door before entering.

"Majesties," the Naiad greeted them, with a graceful incline of her head. "I will help you prepare for the coronation, if you would like."

"Thank you," Peter said, gratefully. "I can't seem to figure out this clasp."

"Neither can I," Edmund admitted, sounding a little reluctant. "It looks like you came just in time, Nalene."

The Naiad smiled, shyly, helping them to attach their capes, and then the thin braided cords that served as belts. Perching on the arm of the couch, Peter started to wrestle the soft boots on, but was soon stopped by Nalene, who eased them onto his feet. She helped Edmund with his, and then stood them both up and smoothed invisible wrinkles out of their clothes. Peter was starting to feel like a giant doll.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Susan and Lucy emerged from the bedroom, their Naiad assistant in tow. Both girls were wearing long, silvery dresses with matching slippers. Susan had a dark green cape hanging from her shoulders, and Lucy had a matching cape in red. Both had their hair styled, Lucy with curls hanging almost to her shoulders, and Susan with her long hair in an intricate braid down the back of her neck.

"You both look lovely," Peter said, and Lucy giggled, happily. "Are you ready?" he continued, holding out his arm.

Susan tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and Lucy copied the gesture with Edmund. Then, with the Naiads in the lead, they went down the hallway and down a staircase, to reach the Great Hall. They were left to wait in an antechamber before the Great Hall, and Peter caught Susan sneaking glances at the closed door.

"Worried?" he teased, lightly.

"A little," Susan admitted.

"I think it's going to be wonderful, being a Queen," Lucy spoke up. "We'll have all sorts of adventures, meet all kinds of interesting people-"

"We just have to survive the next few hours," Edmund quipped.

Aslan entered the antechamber, then, and Lucy rushed over to him with a happy cry. She hugged the Lion, fisting her hands in his mane, and after a few seconds, her siblings joined her in embracing Aslan. When they stepped back, there was a smile on the Lion's face.

"You have made me proud, this day," he told them, and Peter beamed at the unexpected praise. "You have done well."

"Thank you, Aslan," Peter said, answering for all of them. "We'll try to not let you down."

"Daughters of Eve," Aslan said, "on my right. Sons of Adam, on my left."

They moved into their respective positions, on either side of Aslan, walking forward with the Lion toward the closed doors. Then, the heavy doors were thrown open, and they stepped through…


	17. The Crowning Of Kings

**Author's Note: **Finally, the coronation chapter. It took me forever to get to this point, and it did not end at all the way I expected it to. Also, I think this is the fastest I've uploaded multiple chapters in a long time. Not that I'm sure any of you are complaining about that. To all **217** of my reviewers, thank you so much! You're all so awesome.

**A/N2: **For those who haven't read it, the first chapter of _Forged in Flame_, the companion piece to _Trial by Fire_ has now been posted. It's up on my profile page.

**Chapter Seventeen: The Crowning of Kings**

Trumpets blasted through the air as they entered the Great Hall. Edmund looked around in amazement at the sight before them, his jaw dropping in shock.

Colorful scarlet and gold banners hung from the high rafters. The floors were covered in bright, beautifully-decorated tiles, the patterns forming an abstract Lion's head. The far wall was taken up with an immense stained glass window that ran from floor to ceiling. And sunlight streaming in through the windows illuminated the four thrones at the far end of the room.

Edmund would have stood there all day if Peter hadn't nudged him into the Great Hall.

They walked forward on either side of Aslan, through a processional of Centaurs standing at attention. As one, the Centaurs drew their swords and held them out in a salute, the warriors' faces solemn and respectful. At the end of the line of Centaurs, Aslan stopped, letting the siblings continue up the steps to the thrones, alone.

Turning to face the crowd assembled in the Great Hall, Edmund watched as Aslan paced closer to the thrones before turning out toward the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he could also see Tumnus and the Beavers approaching from the sides, and the Beavers had cushions balanced on their paws, with gleaming crowns resting on the lush pillows.

"To the glistening Eastern Sea," Aslan intoned, solemnly, as everyone looked over toward Lucy, "I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant."

Tumnus picked up a delicate-looking silver crown, made to look like flowers twined around vines, and placed it on Lucy's head when she dropped into a curtsy. When Tumnus stepped back, Lucy straightened up, beaming at him. Tumnus gave her an answering smile before he stepped back, taking up his position beside the Beavers, again.

"To the great Western Wood," Aslan continued, and now Tumnus was coming near him, a heavy silver crown in his hands, "I give you King Edmund, the Just."

Edmund knelt so that Tumnus could place the crown on his head, the weight feeling like a comfort as it settled. Looking up, he caught Philip's eye, where the Horse was standing at the edge of the crowd, and his friend inclined his head in a bow. Beside Philip were Auric and Perrin, the Fox's kits sitting in front of their father as they watched the coronation.

"To the radiant Southern Sun," Aslan said, and all attention went to Susan, "I give you Queen Susan, the Gentle."

Susan's crown was golden, and it looked like a wreath of flowers. She dipped into a graceful curtsy that she had to have practiced for hours to make look so effortless, and when she straightened, there was a beaming smile spread across her face. She was as radiant as Aslan had named her.

"And to the clear Northern Sky," Aslan finished, and Edmund looked automatically over to where Peter was waiting, "I give you King Peter, the Magnificent."

Peter straightened from where he was kneeling, after Tumnus placed his golden crown on his head, and to Edmund, he looked every inch the king that Aslan proclaimed him to be. As he stood looking out at the crowd, Edmund could almost see his brother making the shift from boy to man. And he had never been more proud.

"Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen," Aslan declared, and Edmund shared triumphant looks with his siblings, unable to stop the wild grin that spread across his face. "May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens," the Lion continued, "Bear it well, Sons of Adam. Bear it well, Daughters of Eve."

"Long live King Peter!" the cry went up, suddenly, a tremendous roar from the crowd. "Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Lucy!"

As the cheers died down, the trumpets started up, again, joined by the trilling of flutes. As if the music had been a signal, several Fauns started to dance, whirling around in a wild circle, their hooves setting up a rhythmic clatter on the tiles. Lucy's eyes lit up at the sight and she dashed over to Edmund, tugging on his hands, eagerly.

"Come on, Ed! Let's dance!" she cried, pulling her semi-reluctant brother up out of his throne.

"Why me?" Edmund asked, laughing as he let Lucy pull him out onto the floor. "Why not Peter?"

"Because our dear brother has two left feet," Susan chimed in, teasingly. "Well, you do," she added, defensively, at Peter's incredulous look.

Out on the floor, Edmund and Lucy were stumbling through the steps of one of the simpler circle dances, encouraged by the rhythmic clapping of the crowd that had formed around them. Edmund whirled Lucy around the space cleared for them in time to the music, and when it stopped, Lucy threw her arms around him in a hug, her delighted laughter filling the room.

"That was wonderful, Edmund," she said, happily. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Edmund told her. Raising his voice, he called out, teasingly, "We're not going to be the only ones dancing, are we?"

His words encouraged several others out onto the dance floor. One of the Bear brothers asked Susan for a dance, which she accepted with a graceful bow. Peter had been in the middle of a hushed conversation with Vaius, but when it was done, he asked a blushing Dryad if she would do him the honor of a dance.

The musicians started up again, a lively tune that apparently required the participants to form two lines running down the middle of the floor. The dance, itself, involved much switching of partners as they danced down the line, and while Edmund had begun the dance with Lucy, he ended up with Bandera's small paws held in his hands.

The kits were prancing, excitedly, around their mother, clumsily imitating her steps. At the end of the dance, Edmund bowed to Bandera, who inclined her head in return.

"Thank you for the dance, Majesty," she said, as her children chimed in with their own, speaking over each other in their excitement.

"The pleasure was mine, Lady," he told her.

Begging off the next round of dances, Edmund made his way over to where Peter had also escaped, reclaiming his throne as he watched the activity out on the floor.

"Already tired?" Peter teased him.

"Just taking a breather," Edmund told him. Leaning against his brother's throne, he asked, "What was all that with Vaius?"

"Oh, the girls and I were talking, earlier, about honoring some of those who fought in the battle," Peter told him. "Vaius was just helping us get the details finalized."

"That's a good idea," Edmund said. "I think we should also acknowledge Tumnus and the Beavers, too, for everything they've done."

"Lucy already picked out a pair of golden horn caps to present to Tumnus," Peter told him. "And we've remembered the Beavers, as well."

"When did you want to present the honors?" Edmund wanted to know.

"I was thinking to do it before the feast," Peter said, and then Lucy came up and dragged him off for another dance, ending the conversation.

Susan came up soon after, to claim a dance with her younger brother. Susan's face was flushed with exertion, and she had a delighted smile on her face as they whirled around the floor. Edmund could feel himself grow more confident as they moved through the steps of the dance, but to his dismay, the music ended just as he was getting comfortable.

As the music ended, Edmund could hear Peter calling for attention, his voice carrying across the Hall. Individual conversations died down as everyone turned toward Peter, giving their young King their undivided attention. As he and Susan moved through the crowd to join Peter and Lucy on the dais, Edmund marveled at how naturally his older brother had taken to leadership. He really was a natural at the whole thing.

"If I could have your attention, please," Peter requested, "the servers have informed me that the feast is ready-"

A cheer went up at his words, and Edmund laughed. Peter let the noise continue for a few seconds before signaling for silence.

"Before that," he continued, "my brother, sisters, and I have some honors of our own to present." Looking down at a list in his hand, he called out, "Sir Oreius Stormrunner."

The Centaur General stepped up the dais, a solemn look on his face.

"For your defense of the High King during battle with the White Witch," Susan said, as Lucy stepped forward with a sash in her hands.

Oreius bent down so that he was at Lucy's level, so that the young girl could slip the sash over his head. He straightened, the beautiful, ornately-decorated material settling on his chest, which he smoothed down in an unconscious motion.

"I will wear this favor with the pride with which it was bestowed," Oreius replied, giving them a formal bow, with his right fist held over his heart, before he stepped back into the crowd.

Peter looked down at the list in his hand, again. "Lieutenant Bertran."

Peter called out dozens of names, as Creature after Creature stepped up the dais to accept their awards. Tumnus was the last one called up, the Faun stammering out his thanks as he accepted his sash and the golden horn caps that Lucy presented him with. Lucy looked positively delighted at being able to give her friend his due.

Edmund watched as Peter carefully rolled up the sheet of paper, expecting him to call everyone to join them in the feast. But, his brother had one more surprise up his sleeve.

"And, lastly," Peter announced, as Edmund looked over, curiously. "King Edmund."

Edmund raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he crossed the short distance to stand in front of Peter, waiting for whatever came next.

"For your steadfast devotion to your family and your people," Peter began, as Susan hissed at him to kneel. "For your courage and valor against the White Witch, we name you a Knight of Narnia."

Edmund looked up in shock, meeting Peter's gazed as his brother smiled, warmly, nodding at him in encouragement. Peter drew Rhindon from its scabbard as Oreius handed him the sword, placing the flat of the blade on either side of Edmund's neck. Edmund closed his eyes as the cool steel touched his skin, trusting Peter's control, implicitly.

"Arise, Sir Edmund How, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table," Peter said, solemnly, and Edmund stood up to the sound of wild cheering that filled the Hall.

Then, he found himself blushing, furiously, as Peter leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"What was that for?" he demanded in an undertone, and Peter smirked.

"It's a tradition for a liege to kiss a new knight," Peter said, solemnly.

"It is not," Edmund retorted, having witnessed his share of knighting, before.

"Well, it is now," Peter told him, a note of finality in his voice.

The discussion was taken out of their hands when Lucy, and then Susan, stepped forward and kissed Edmund on both cheeks, making him blush even harder.

"We're proud of you," Susan murmured, before stepping back.

"And, now," Peter called out, while Edmund was still trying to absorb what had happened, "now it's time for the feast!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A plate of food in his hand, Peter wandered away from the long line of buffet tables that had been set up at the back of the Hall. Picking idly at the selection of food on his plate, he found a spot on the wall where he had a relatively unobstructed view of most of the Hall. Then, leaning against the wall, he nibbled at his food while he watched the celebrations going on around him.

Edmund was sitting on the steps leading up the dais, talking to Philip. Peter laughed when he looked closer and saw the Fox kits sleeping soundly in his lap, draped carelessly over his legs. Susan was on the other side of the Hall, deep in conversation with some of the archers, and Lucy was still dancing, a couple of the Fauns teaching her one of their circle dances. Peter found himself admiring his younger sister for her nearly-boundless enthusiasm and energy.

Hearing hoof beats on the ornately-tiled floor, Peter looked over to see Oreius approaching. The Centaur nodded a greeting, stopping beside Peter. They stood in silence for several minutes, watching the celebration.

"I don't feel very much like a King," he confessed, and a hint of a smile ghosted across Oreius's face. "It's just, I don't feel like I know what I'm doing," Peter went on. "What if I make a mistake?"

"Better to ask when," Oreius advised him. At Peter's shocked look, he elaborated, "The nature of leadership is such that there are times when you will make the wrong decision. You will make mistakes, and people will likely be hurt, for it. And the best thing to do is to learn from your mistakes, so that you will not make them, again."

"Thanks," Peter muttered, after staring at Oreius in amazement for a few, long moments. "That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"Luckily," Oreius went on, without missing a beat, "you will not be alone. You will not have to make decisions by yourself, second-guessing and wondering if you're doing the right thing."

"You're right," Peter admitted, looking over at his siblings, again. "I just don't want to let them down. I don't want to let anyone, down," he continued, after a long moment.

"Do your best," Oreius told him. "Be the good, kind, conscientious King I know you can be, and you will not let anyone down."

_'That's still a tall order,'_ Peter thought, but he had no time to voice that opinion, because Tumnus came up to them, a hesitant look on his face as he shifted, uneasily, on his hooves.

"Majesty," he said, quietly, "could I speak with you?"

"Of course," Peter said, wondering if the Faun wanted to go someplace less public for what was obviously going to be an uncomfortable conversation, at least for him.

But, Tumnus seemed willing to have the conversation in front of Oreius, so Peter stayed where he was, waiting expectantly for Tumnus to speak. The Faun was silent for several seconds, twisting his hands, agitatedly, as he stared down at the floor.

"I do not feel worthy of the honor that you have given me," Tumnus finally said, sounding ashamed.

"For your defiance of the White Witch, for your defense of the Kings and Queens, at great danger to yourself," Peter said, quoting his earlier words to the Faun during the ceremony.

"Defiance of the White Witch," Tumnus echoed, and a self-loathing expression crossed his face. "Majesty, you don't understand-"

"Understand what?" Peter prompted, gently, when Tumnus trailed off, miserably.

"Before I met Lucy," Tumnus said, quietly, almost shrinking away as he spoke, like he expected either Peter or Oreius to strike him, "I used to work for the White Witch."

"What do you mean, you worked for the Witch?" Peter asked.

"I was a kidnapper," Tumnus said, almost whispering now, shame coloring his tone. "I turned in those who spoke out against her, watched as she turned them to stone just to save myself from the same fate."

He fell silent, clearly expecting some sort of censure from Peter, who was looking at the Faun while he considered his words. Beside him, Oreius shifted his weight on his front hooves, but he remained silent, willing to defer his own judgment for Peter's.

"You _used_ to work for the Witch," Peter said, at last, putting an emphasis on the words.

"Yes," Tumnus concurred.

"Does that mean, that if the White Witch showed up at this moment, that you'd turn us over to her?" Peter asked, and a shocked look crossed Tumnus's face.

"Never!" he gasped, horrified. "King Peter, I would never-"

"Then, why do you still concern yourself with the past?" Peter asked him, and Tumnus blinked in surprise.

"But, I-" he started, and Peter cut him off, gently.

"You defied the Witch to help Lucy escape," he said. "You defended Edmund when he was held captive by the Witch, and you fought with us at the Battle. That more than makes you deserving of the honor that you were awarded."

Tumnus blinked again, clearly not expecting that response. He seemed at a loss for words, but he nodded, quickly, to Peter and Oreius before turning and walking quickly away.

"That," Oreius told him, as they watched Tumnus make his way across the Hall, "was the right thing."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Why couldn't we stay down at the beach any longer?" Lucy asked, sleepily, her words slurred by the yawn that made her jaw crack.

"Because you were going to fall asleep in the water," Peter teased her, gently, hitching her up more firmly on his back and getting a better grip on her legs.

"I was not," Lucy protested, but her words were undone by another yawn.

Edmund and Susan grinned as they listened to their siblings banter as they continued down the hall, their voices growing fainter as Peter detoured toward Lucy's suite.

Earlier, as the celebration had died down, the four of them had snuck away and gone down to the beach. They'd spent about an hour playing in the sand and the water, and were now tired and more than ready for bed. The sun had set while they were playing, and now as they walked through the halls of the castle, the only light came from the lit sconces on the wall, and the slivers of moonlight that shone through the windows.

Edmund could barely keep his eyes open, himself, and beside him, Susan kept stifling her own yawns.

"We're not much better than Lucy, are we?" Edmund asked, ruefully, and Susan chuckled in agreement.

Then, the sudden sound of a Wolf's howl jerked them both back to full wakefulness. Edmund was sprinting down the hallway before he even thought about it, and Susan was right on his heels. As they ran in the direction of the sound, he grabbed one of the burning sconces off the wall, figuring, if nothing else, he could use the torch as a weapon.

Another howl, sharper and more piercing, split the air. Fearing the worst, Edmund sped up. He soon realized that they were headed toward the main courtyard, and as they got closer, the sounds of snarling filled the air.

He and Susan burst out onto the courtyard, and Susan let out an involuntary scream at the sight of a pair of Wolves circling each other, warily. Both were limping, and one of the Wolves was badly injured, blood soaking his dark fur. With a shock, Edmund realized that the injured Wolf was Bertran.

Susan's scream startled the Wolves away from each other, for just a second, and Edmund took advantage of the momentary distraction to lunge forward, slashing at the intruding Wolf with the flaming torch in his hands.

Bertran's attacker danced backward, away from the fire, snarling as he turned on Edmund. But, Susan acted as well, scooping up one of the decorative rocks at the bottom of the fountain and hurling it at the Wolf with deadly accuracy, striking the Wolf just above the eye.

As the Wolf stumbled backward, blood from the gash in his forehead leaking into his eyes, Bertran sprang. Knocking the smaller Wolf off his paws, Bertran pinned the intruder to the stones of the courtyard, snarling menacingly when the Wolf tried to move.

By then, the commotion had drawn attention from inside the castle, and Oreius and Peter came pounding out onto the courtyard, followed by a rush of vengeful Creatures. Oreius already had his swords out, and Peter drew Rhindon in a rush of steel as they cleared the doorway, but Edmund stilled them both with an upraised hand.

"Bertran," he said, quietly, and the Wolf swung his head around to look at Edmund. "Report."

"I found him skulking around the gardens," Bertran said, disgust in his voice. "I was just going to run him off, but he attacked me."

"Why?" Peter spoke up, joining them, but his question wasn't directed at Bertran. "Why would you come here to attack us?" he repeated, looking down at the captive Wolf, who'd finally, wisely, given up struggling now that he was severely outnumbered.

"You are not the rightful rulers of Narnia," the wolf growled, hatred in his eyes as he glared past Bertran, up at Peter. "You're usurpers, all of you. My mistress is the rightful Queen."

"Your mistress is dead," Bertran informed the intruder, who turned his heated glare on his fellow Wolf.

"She will live forever," he vowed. "The True Queen of Narnia will rise, again, and smite her enemies."

"Shendar, you idiot," Bertran began, but the Wolf twisted, suddenly, throwing Bertran off and scrambling to his paws.

A snarl fixed firmly on his face, Shendar lunged at Susan, who held her hands up, instinctively, as she stumbled backward. Throwing himself at his sister, Edmund knocked Susan heavily to the ground, pinning her to the cold stones and shielding her with his own body. Peter, stepping forward at the same time, thrust with Rhindon as he moved forward, running the Wolf straight through. His aim was true, and he pierced the Wolf's heart.

The Wolf collapsed to the stones, taking Peter's sword with him, and he lay there, gasping for breath, as he died. Bertran, still dazed from his sudden flight, dragged himself over to Shendar, nudging the Wolf's nose, gently, with his own.

"Shendar, why?" he asked, so quiet that Edmund could barely hear him.

"I had to," Shendar replied, whining softly in pain. "I had to. Bertran-"

"You could have joined us," Bertran begged the young Wolf. "They would have forgiven you-"

But, his words fell on deaf ears, and with a soft exhale, the Wolf died. His sightless eyes stared out at nothing, until Peter knelt down, closing Shendar's eyes with his hand. He pulled Rhindon out of Shendar's body, the blade coming away bright red with blood. After a moment of consideration, Peter wiped his blade on the grass the bordered the stones of the courtyard, sheathing the sword quickly.

"I knew him," Bertran said, heavily, struggling to his feet. "He was just a pup when the Pack took him in. It was the only life he knew."

Rolling off Susan, Edmund stared at the still body of the Wolf, still shaking at how close to a disaster they'd come.

"When he lunged at me," Susan said, horror in her voice as realization dawned, "he knew we'd never let him go through with it. He was trying to die."

"I never should have told him," Bertran said, mournfully. "I thought he knew about her death, and I never thought he'd take it like this."

"We'll bury him down by the cliffs," Edmund told him, standing and pulling Susan up with him. "He was your friend, and he deserves that much."

"Thank you," Bertran said, quietly. Staring down at Shendar, he shook his head. "He was devoted to her, and it killed him."

"What do we do, now?" Susan asked, into the silence that filled his words.

"Emergency council," Peter declared. "General, I want you and your commanders in the War Room in fifteen minutes."

Oreius nodded, turning and cantering away into the castle to wake those involved. Those gathered slowly trickled away, leaving the courtyard empty except for Edmund, Peter, Susan, and Bertran.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Peter asked. "There are Creatures out there that are still loyal to the Witch. And they see us as a threat."

"Worse," Bertran spoke up, his eyes still fixed on Shendar. "They think they can resurrect the Witch."

"We couldn't even have one day?" Susan asked, wistfully, and Peter slipped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.

"We can at least let Lucy have the rest of the night to sleep," he assured her, and Susan nodded in resignation.

"I'll alert the kitchens, and then meet you in the War Room," she said. When her brothers gave her a curious look, she added, "We're going to need something to help us stay awake, if we're going to be up for the rest of the night."

"She's right," Edmund told Peter. "We've got a long night ahead of us."


	18. War Council

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing.

**Chapter Eighteen: War Council**

"Come to order!"

Peter's voice carried across the War Room, cutting through the din of the Creatures assembled there. The noise died down almost immediately, head swiveling around to face Peter as he took his seat at the head of the table, flanked on either side by Edmund and Susan. All three Monarchs had the same, grim look on their faces.

Reaching out, Edmund snagged the cup of coffee that sat in front of him, gulping down the dark, bitter liquid. He tried not to wince at the taste that he had yet to become accustomed to, noting a similar grimace flash across Susan's face as she sampled her own drink. But, as bitter as the liquid was, it worked to wake him back up.

"As many of you know," Peter began, as a hush fell over the War Room, "there was an attempted attack by a follower of the Witch, earlier."

A low muttering rose at his words, and Peter waited, patiently, until they fell silent, again.

"We have reason to believe," he continued, looking over at Edmund and Susan as he spoke, "that the attack was an assassination attempt, directed at one of the four of us."

"Most likely all four of you," Oreius spoke up, gravely. "The Wolf's words indicated that he was coming after all of you."

Peter nodded, acknowledging Oreius's concern.

"Bertran," he said, addressing the Wolf as he limped slowly into the room. "You said that you knew the Wolf who attacked us?"

"He was part of the Secret Police," Bertran answered, taking a position beside Oreius. "And, as you saw, he was very loyal to the Witch."

"Do you think we can expect other attacks from the Witch's remaining followers?" Edmund asked, and the Wolf swiveled his head in his direction.

"It's possible," Bertran replied. "But, Shendar's attack was most likely a solo attack, one not condoned by the remaining members of the Pack."

"Explain," Peter said, shortly, frowning at Bertran's words.

"When we rescued Edmund from the Witch," Bertran began, "there were some Creatures who escaped, or were not at her camp." He glanced over at Oreius for confirmation, and the Centaur nodded, once. "There are also some who were not at the Battle."

"Meaning that they're still out there, hiding," Peter said.

"Hiding, yes," Bertran told them, "but not necessarily loyal to the Witch."

"What do you mean?" Susan asked, quietly, cutting off Peter's impatient demand before he could voice it.

"Some of the Wolves of the Pack," Bertran said, "followed the Witch, and Maugrim, out of fear, not loyalty. I believe that, if given the opportunity, they would have fled the Witch's reach."

"And Shendar was one of them?" Edmund asked, thinking back to the Wolf's furious declaration. "He didn't seem like the type to run from the Witch."

"Not on his own," Bertran said, "but, he would have gone where Cyrran ordered him to go."

"Cyrran?" Susan asked.

"Where would they go?" Peter asked, almost simultaneously.

"Cyrran was the one who found Shendar, when we took him in," Bertran said, answering Susan's question first. "She raised him, and he would have followed her to the End of the World. If she ordered him to go with her, even away from the Witch, he would have followed."

"Where would they have gone?" Peter asked, repeating his earlier question.

"The Black Mountains," Bertran answered, without hesitation.

"Why-" Edmund started, and then the confusion cleared from his face. "The rogues."

"Exactly," Bertran replied.

"What are you two talking about?" Peter demanded. "What rogues?"

"The rogue Wolves that live in the Black Mountains," Edmund answered. "Wolves that have never served the Witch, and they escaped to the Black Mountains to avoid her tyranny."

"The rogues were barely more than a rumor, when I was with the Pack," Bertran said. "But, if they exist, it's where Cyrran would have led her defectors, to safety."

"They exist," Edmund said, quietly, but he shook his head, slightly, when Peter looked over at him, curiously. That particular story wasn't one he wanted to get into, at the moment.

"Then, we will go to the Black Mountains, after Cyrran and her followers," Peter decided. "Bertran, will you be able to speak to these Wolves?"

"I can try," Bertran said. "I cannot promise that Cyrran will listen to me, especially one she hears of Shendar's death."

"It will have to be enough," Peter told him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Lucy woke up to bright sunlight streaming through her windows, piercing through her closed eyelids. She was awake almost immediately, rolling out of bed. She wiggled her toes, happily, in the thick, plush rug at the side of her bed. Then, slipping her feet into an equally-lush pair of slippers, she padded across the floor to the bathroom.

There was a bath already waiting for her, and she bathed quickly, wanting to get out and start the day. When she went back out into her bedroom, there was a Naiad laying out a dress on her bed.

"Oh," Lucy said, surprised. "Hello."

"Good morn, Majesty," the Naiad greeted her. "I am Marilee, one of your attendants. I am here to help you get ready."

"Okay," Lucy said, hesitantly, but Marilee was incredibly efficient as she helped her to dress and fix her hair, and Lucy felt at ease with her. When she thought about it, it was really no different than having Susan or her mother helping her.

Even the brief thought of her mother had her blinking back tears, as a wave of homesickness came over her. Cair Paravel was wonderful and she loved it, loved all of Narnia, but she missed her old home.

_'This is where we're supposed to be,'_ she told herself, firmly. _'And, someday, we'll go back to England, and see Mum and Dad, again.'_

"Is everything all right, Majesty?" Marilee asked, quietly, breaking into her thoughts.

"I miss my mum," Lucy admitted.

"It must be hard, being so far from home," Marilee said, sympathetically. "But, you'll see her again, some day. Aslan would not keep you from your family, forever."

"I know," Lucy said, comforted by the Naiad's words.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Majesty?" Marilee asked.

"Do you know where Peter, Susan, and Edmund are eating breakfast?" she asked, figuring that her siblings had already woken ahead of her. She felt like she'd slept, forever.

"They are most likely in the main dining room," Marilee told her, but when she led the way there, they found the room empty.

Leaving the dining room, Marilee stopped Vaius, in the hallway.

"Have their Majesties already eaten?" she asked, politely, and the Faun frowned, puzzled.

"The kitchen staff has not prepared a meal for anyone but themselves," he said, after a moment.

"Are they still asleep?" Lucy asked, in amazement. She couldn't believe that she was the first one awake.

"I do not believe that their Majesties have retired, since last night," Vaius told her.

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked, confused. "What happened last night?"

"You did not hear about the attack?"Vaius asked, and Lucy's eyes flew open, wide.

"What attack?" she demanded. When Vaius hesitated, she continued, "Where are they?"

Vaius showed her to the War Room, the imposing oak double doors firmly shut, but he stopped her when she put her hand on the golden door handle, keeping her from opening it.

"King Peter gave orders that they were not to be disturbed," he said, hesitantly.

"Not from me," Lucy told him, opening the door and slipping into the room.

She stood back by the doors for several minutes, unnoticed by everyone in the room as they discussed the events of the previous night. She learned more in those few minutes than she had gotten from Vaius, earlier, and all of it scared her. And, if what she was hearing was right, then it wasn't over.

When a sudden hush fell over the room, she looked up to see Peter staring at her from the head of the table, a shocked look on his face.

"Lucy, what are you doing here?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Have you all been here all night?" she asked, quietly.

What she really wanted was to demand why they hadn't told her, why they were treating her like a child who needed coddling, but she shoved down the impulse. If she wanted her siblings to see her as a Queen, and not just their little sister, then she was going to have to act like a Queen.

"Has it really been all night?" Susan asked, sounding amazed, and Lucy took a closer look at her siblings.

They all looked exhausted, with dark circles under their eyes. Edmund couldn't seem to stop yawning, although he was hiding it behind his hands. Susan looked like she could barely keep her eyes open, and Peter's hands were shaking, slightly, like they did when he was tired.

It was then that she grasped the gravity of the situation. This was more than her siblings meeting without her, this was the three of them trying to protect, not only her, but all of Narnia. The Witch may have been gone, but her threat remained, and they were trying to do everything they could to end it once and for all. The assassination attempt from last night had just been a small part of what was left out there, and she suddenly realized that none of them, not even Edmund with all his years of experience, knew exactly how to handle things.

"Have any of you eaten breakfast?" she asked, quietly, trying to calm the fear that she could feel rising within her.

There were guilty looks shared around the table, and then Peter muttered, "We've been busy."

"Will you eat something?" she asked, and her siblings exchanged glances.

"Lucy, we still have work to do," Edmund protested, weakly, and she sighed in exasperation.

"If I have breakfast brought here," she elaborated, "will you eat?"

"Yes," Susan assured her, and Lucy smiled at her sister, knowing that one sibling, at least, understood her.

"Thank you," Lucy said, and then she left the room.

Maybe she couldn't protect all of Narnia, but she could protect her family. If the only thing she could do was take care of her siblings, then she would do the best she could.

"Would you make sure that everyone in the War Room gets something to eat?" she asked Vaius, who was still waiting out in the hallway, and the Faun nodded, gesturing a young Dryad over and dispatching her to the task.

"And, Majesty, there are petitioners waiting in the courtyard," Vaius told her. "Should I have them wait until Queen Susan or King Edmund can speak to them?"

Looking back at the closed door, where her siblings had been all night, and were still busy planning their response to last night's assassination attempt, Lucy shook her head.

"Don't bother them," she said, and Vaius nodded, briskly. "I'll speak with the petitioners," Lucy continued.

"Of course, Majesty," Vaius said, without hesitation. "Where should I bring the petitioners for you to meet with them?"

"I don't know," Lucy said, as she realized that she didn't know Cair Paravel well enough to know its rooms by heart. "Where are such things normally done?"

"In the-" Vaius started, and then he trailed off, a sheepish look on his face. "I don't know, either," he admitted, and Lucy giggled. "You are the first Kings and Queens that I have had the pleasure of serving."

"Well, where do you think I should see them?" Lucy asked, and Vaius looked around the hallway, thoughtfully.

"The Great Hall," he said, promptly.

"But, isn't that room a little imposing?" Lucy asked, hesitantly, remembering how overwhelmed she'd felt when she'd first entered the room on the day of their coronation.

"Majesty," Vaius told her, "there are a lot of petitioners."

Turning, the Steward went down the hallway toward the courtyard, and, after a moment, Lucy went to the Great Hall. Adjusting her crown nervously on her head, she sat in her throne, waiting. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress in a nervous gesture, and she stilled her hands with an effort.

"Queens do not fiddle with their dresses," she told herself, sternly, to the amusement of a stately Dryad who'd entered the Great Hall.

The Dryad handed her a plate of fruit that Lucy accepted, eagerly.

"Vaius is still leading the petitioners here," she told Lucy, who was quickly eating. "I thought you might like something for breakfast, before they arrived."

"Still leading?" Lucy echoed, confused. "There aren't that many hallways between here and the Courtyard, are there?"

"Vaius wanted to give you some time to settle," the Dryad told her.

The door at the end of the Hall began opening, slowly, and the Dryad gave Lucy a quick bow, whisking the now-empty plate out of her hands.

"Good luck, Majesty," she said, and then she disappeared through a side door that Lucy hadn't noticed the night before.

Turning her attention back to the slowly-opening door, Lucy watched as Vaius entered the Hall, followed by a group of five or six Creatures.

_'That's not so many,'_ Lucy thought, wondering why Vaius would have described the group as large.

Then, the doors opened further, and the rest of the Creatures poured into the Hall. Lucy felt her eyes go wide with amazement at the wave of Creatures filled the Hall. There were dozens, a motley assortment of Dogs, Fauns, Dryads, Satyrs, Badgers, and many others. They were all talking as they entered, and the noise filled the Hall.

Vaius called for silence, and the Creatures slowly fell quiet as they turned their attention to Lucy, waiting for her. For her part, Lucy took a deep breath, trying to figure out what she was going to say.

"Why don't you tell me what brings all of you, here?" she finally asked, not knowing what else to say.

There was a moment of silence, as everyone looked around at everyone else, and then a cacophony of noise erupted as they all started speaking at once. Everyone was getting louder and louder in an attempt to talk over each other, and Lucy looked over at Vaius, who was trying, without much success, to regain control of the room.

Finally, Lucy employed a tactic that had worked so well for her, before. Putting her fingers in her mouth, she whistled as loud as she could, a sound that blasted through the Hall and cut through the noise. The Creatures in the Hall fell silent almost immediately, staring at her in surprise. Vaius, in particular, looked almost scandalized by her actions.

_'I guess Queens don't whistle, either,'_ Lucy thought wryly, settling back in her throne as everyone in the Hall turned their attention to her.

"One at a time, please," she implored them. Gesturing to the nearest couple, a pair of Rabbits who were hovering at the edge of the group, she urged them forward.

"Queen Lucy," the larger of the Rabbits said, venturing slowly forward. "We've come here to ask a favor of you-"

"The White Witch turned my mama to stone!" the smaller Rabbit broke in, suddenly, his high-pitched voice carrying over his father's.

"Finn!" the older Rabbit scolded, and the younger shrank back at the harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, Majesty," the Rabbit continued, turning his attention back to Lucy. "I am Gerran, and this is my son, Finn. My wife, Bellse, was turned to stone by the Witch, and we were wondering if there was anything you or the other Monarchs could do for her."

As Gerran trailed off, looking up at her, expectantly, the rest of the Hall exploded into noise, again. Names were being called out, rapidly, and Lucy quickly figured out that they were the names of all the Creatures that had been turned into stone by the Witch.

"Please be quiet!" she called out, in frustration, barely able to hear herself think.

The Creatures fell into silence, again, and Lucy took a few seconds to gather her scattered thoughts.

"Does everyone, here, have someone who was taken from them by the Witch?" she called out. As the noise threatened to rise, again, she added, quickly, "Please, just raise a paw, hand, or wing into the air."

There was a flurry of activity as the assembled Creatures did as she requested, and Lucy's heart sank at the sight of so many who'd lost family and friends to the Witch.

"Did anyone bring their lost one here, today?" she ventured, not really expecting an affirmative answer.

But, she was surprised as several stone statues were pushed to the front of the group, sliding along the tiles with a grinding noise that made Vaius wince. Jumping up from her throne, Lucy unhooked her vial of healing cordial from where it was hooked to her belt, unscrewing the top as she went down the stairs from the dais. She placed a single drop of fluid on top of each statue, everyone waiting anxiously for the vial's magic to take affect.

Slowly, the stone disappeared, almost melting away, and then the newly-restored Creatures were creating a din of their own as they were reunited with their family and friends.

"That was nicely done," Vaius congratulated her, as she stepped back to watch the reunions. "But, what of the others who are still lost out there?"

"I'll just have to go after them, won't I?" Lucy asked, determination filling her voice as she began forming a plan.

"I think you'll have a fight on your hands with King Peter," Vaius advised her.

"I'll handle Peter," Lucy said. "We can't just leave them out there, Vaius. This is something I have to do."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The door to the antechamber off the War Room was shut, quietly, as the Monarchs slipped into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. The siblings arranged themselves around the small room, and the tension in the room was so palpable it could practically be felt.

"No." There was a definite note of finality in the oldest Pevensie's voice as he shook his head, resolutely. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Lucy sighed at her older brother's stubbornness, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So, you're saying that we should just leave everyone who was turned to stone by the White Witch the way they are?" she said, challengingly, and she could see Edmund and Susan looking at her in surprise.

"That's not at all what I'm saying," Peter protested. "Of course we need to find a way to restore them to life, if we can."

"Which my vial will do," Lucy argued, her own stubbornness coming to the fore.

"But, you don't need to go traipsing all over Narnia when it's so dangerous," Peter said, insistently. "There was an assassination attempt last night, Lucy. It's too dangerous for you to leave the castle, right now."

Biting back her automatic retort of why it wasn't too dangerous for Susan or her brothers, Lucy took a deep breath and looked Peter squarely in the eye.

"So, how are we supposed to restore everyone to life if I can't go out there?" she asked, quietly.

"Well, we'll send troops out, and they'll bring everyone who needs help back here," Peter told her, relaxing as he thought she was finally coming around to his point of view. "You can use your vial just as easily, here."

"What if the troops miss someone?" Lucy asked. "Are we going to condemn someone to death because we didn't find them? Or, what if there is a time limit to my vial? What if it only works within a certain amount of time?"

She was lying through her teeth with the last one, since she was sure some of the Creatures that Aslan had restored in the courtyard of the Witch's castle had been there for years. She just hoped Peter didn't pick up on it and call her on it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Edmund looking at her in surprise, and she wondered if he was about to take her side or Peter's. When he opened his mouth to speak, she found herself holding her breath in anticipation.

"Lucy's right," he said, quietly, and she almost cheered in triumph.

Peter and Susan were both giving Edmund the same incredulous look, but Edmund focused on Lucy as he spoke.

"We do need to go after those who were attacked by the White Witch," he said. "And it will instill more confidence in those who are hiding, if we go out there, ourselves."

"But, it doesn't have to be Lucy," Peter said, angrily. "She's too young."

"Aslan named us all Kings and Queens of Narnia," Susan spoke up, quietly, before Lucy could protest Peter's comment. "There were no conditions placed on Lucy because of her age."

"Lucy is the only one who can go," Edmund said, picking up the thread of argument that Susan left. "Her vial is the only thing that can help those who were turned into stone."

"It's my kingdom, too, Peter," Lucy said, softly, and when her older brother looked over at her, she could see the fear and worry lurking behind the stubbornness in his eyes.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Peter told her. "It's dangerous out there, Lu."

"I know that," Lucy said, surprising him. "I'm hardly going to go out there by myself. Knowing you three, I'll probably end up with half the army as my personal guard."

Peter finally smiled, sheepishly, and Lucy gave him an answering grin.

"I'll be perfectly safe," she insisted.

"I guess I'm outnumbered," Peter finally, grudgingly said, looking over at his siblings.

"She won't be going alone," Susan said, reassuring her brother. "She'll have her guard with her, and I'll be going with her."

"Except that would leave the castle unguarded," Edmund spoke up, after a moment. "If someone were to make another attempt on the castle-"

"Then, one of us will stay here," Peter said, and Susan shook her head, already knowing what Peter was hinting at.

"You are not going to go after the Wolves by yourself," she declared, firmly, with answering echoes from their younger siblings.

"Guard or not, I'm going to be watching your back," Edmund agreed. "It's too volatile a situation for you to be going alone."

"So, that leaves Susan at the castle, and Lucy is still out there by herself," Peter argued.

"I'm not going to be alone," Lucy insisted, as her siblings looked over at her. "I'll have our soldiers from the army coming with me. They won't let anything happen."

Peter sighed, silently admitting defeat, nodding, finally.

"That settles it, then," he said, quietly. "Lucy, you will promise to be careful?"

"I promise," Lucy told hm. "Peter, nothing is going to happen."

"I'm not so sure," Peter replied, but he opened the door to the antechamber and gestured for his siblings to precede him out of the room.

As they took their seats at the head of the table, again, Lucy taking her chair between Edmund and Susan, Peter held up his hand for silence.

"Queen Lucy will be going out on a mission to find everyone who was turned to stone by the Witch," he said, looking at everyone arranged in the War Room. "She will require a guard to go with her on her mission."

"I volunteer," Khyldaer spoke up, immediately, bowing slightly to Lucy. "I will head her personal guard, and there are several who I can recommend to join me."

"Very good," Peter said, nodding in assent. "There is also the matter of the guard that will accompany King Edmund and myself to the Black Mountains, after the rogue Wolves, and those who will remain here at the castle with Queen Susan."

"I will take charge of that guard, personally," Oreius declared. "And I will assign some to remain at the castle."

"General," Edmund asked, "when will your troops be ready to depart?"

"We will need at least five hours to make preparations," Oreius said, after a quick consultation with Khyldaer. "We should be ready by midday."

"Very well," Peter said, standing, his siblings a beat behind him. "General, take care of whatever preparations you deem necessary. Council is dismissed."


	19. A Momentary Peace

**Author's Note: **This was originally part of a much longer chapter, and due to end very differently, but because of the different moods of the two parts, I decided to split it into two chapters.

**Chapter Nineteen: A Momentary Peace**

Hours later, Lucy was down in the stables with Vaius, inspecting the horses resting in their stalls.

"Where did you get so many horses?" she asked, as she patted the nose of an inquisitive gray stallion that poked his head out over the half door at the sound of her voice.

"I have cousins in the lowlands that raise dumb beasts for many uses," Vaius told her. "They brought several of their best horses for the coronation, as a present for you and your siblings."

"They're all very beautiful," Lucy said, giggling when the stallion nosed her, curiously, clearly searching for treats she may have had hidden in her dress.

"Do you have any experience with horses, Majesty?" Vaius asked, as he led her over to a stall that housed a dark brown horse with a heavy forelock falling in front of her eyes.

"Not really," Lucy told him. "My uncle has horses, and we all went riding one summer, but I was only on a pony, and never by myself."

"Then, I think Kentra will be a suitable mount for you," Vaius replied, reaching up and scratching the mare on her neck, under her thick mane. "She is highly intelligent, steady, and calm."

There was a lead rope hanging from a hook outside the stall, and, opening the stall door, Vaius clipped the rope to the soft, woven halter on her head, leading the mare out into the aisle. He tied Kentra to a hook, and the mare stood, placidly, where she was placed. Lucy reached up to pet Kentra, and the mare lowered her head to snuffle at her outstretched fingers.

Vaius had disappeared after securing Kentra to the hook in the aisle, and now he returned, loaded down with the mare's heavy tack. Lucy took the bridle off the top of the pile, and Vaius set the saddle on a nearby box.

Settling a pad on Kentra's back, he placed the saddle on top, showing Lucy how to cinch the girth, snugly. Then he slipped the bridle over the mare's head, adjusting the chin and throat straps until they were comfortable on her head.

"Shouldn't she have a bit?" Lucy asked, watching the Faun's quick, efficient movements.

"She's been trained to respond without one," Vaius explained, as he checked all of the straps one last time. "You will use pressure from the reins, and from your legs and seat, to tell her what you want her to do."

Unclipping Kentra from her spot in the aisle, Vaius handed Lucy the reins and gestured for her to precede him out of the stable and into the courtyard. Lucy started forward, hearing the sharp sound of hooves against the stone floor as Kentra followed her down the aisle. She stopped in the middle of the courtyard, blinking in the bright sunlight, and Vaius took the reins back from her.

"Stand," he ordered, quietly, and the mare obediently planted her hooves, standing rock-still where she'd been placed.

Laying the reins along her neck, Vaius ran a quick hand along Kentra's neck, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Then, he cupped his hands together into a cradle, turning to Lucy. Lucy put her foot into the Faun's hands, and he boosted her into the air, stepping back as she settled herself in the saddle. Lucy took up the reins, and Vaius showed her how to properly hold them, making a few adjustments to her posture in the process.

Then, Vaius stepped back to the center of the courtyard, nodding at Lucy. She squeezed Kentra's sides with her legs, like she remembered her uncle telling her to do years ago, giving the mare a quiet click of her tongue for encouragement.

The mare stepped out into a walk, her long, swinging strides covering the ground easily. Lucy shifted in the saddle until she'd figured out how to move with Kentra, rather than just sitting stiffly on her back. They made a few circuits around the courtyard, and then Vaius held up a hand to get her attention.

"Signal her again with your legs," he instructed, and Lucy obeyed, with Kentra quickly picking up a trot.

They continued that way through the rest of the mare's paces, and then, after he was summoned back to the castle by an anxious Dryad, Vaius excused himself from the courtyard once he was confident in Lucy's ability. Girl and horse spent the rest of their time simply getting to know each other, at least until Lucy caught sight of someone lingering at the edge of the courtyard.

"You're supposed to be resting," Lucy said, pointedly, and Susan had the grace to look sheepish at the gentle rebuke.

"I'm not tired," she replied, from where she was sitting on the low stone wall that bordered the smooth patch of ground.

Lucy steered Kentra over to where her sister was waiting and the mare stopped obediently in front of Susan. Kicking her feet free of the stirrups, Lucy slid out of the saddle, staggering when her feet hit the ground.

"Edmund and Peter make it look so easy," she grumbled, as Susan helped her stand on shaky legs.

"Well," Susan pointed out, "Edmund's been doing this for a lot longer than any of us. And Peter is too stubborn to admit when he's having trouble with something."

"He rode a Unicorn into battle against the Witch," Lucy protested.

"And he was limping for hours afterward," Susan reminded her, and Lucy giggled at the memory.

"You'll be careful, won't you, Lu?" Susan asked, suddenly, all humor gone from her voice as she looked down at her little sister.

"Of course," Lucy said, slowly, but Susan was insistent.

"I mean it," she pressed. "Promise me, Lucy. You'll listen to Khyldaer and the rest of your guard. When they tell you to do something-"

"I'll do it," Lucy promised. "Su, I'm not going to go out there with a guard and then not listen to them."

"I know," Susan said, after a moment, sighing heavily. "I'm just worried about you. I hate that you're going to be out there by yourself, and I won't be able to be there with you. I mean, at least Peter and Edmund will be watching each other's backs."

"And I'll have half the army at mine," Lucy reminded her, quietly. "I have to go, Susan. I'm the only one who can."

Susan nodded, wordlessly, and then wrapped her arms around her little sister, suddenly, holding on tightly. Lucy held on just as hard, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Despite all of her brave words, she didn't want to be separated from her family, again. Especially so soon.

But, when Susan released her, she made sure that none of her apprehension showed on her face. If she wanted her siblings to treat her as a Queen, and not the baby of the family, then she needed to act like a Queen.

"What do you say we go look in on the boys?" Susan said, leaving an arm draped over Lucy's shoulders. "Knowing them, they're probably still obsessing over details of their own mission, and aren't even close to being ready to leave."

"All right," Lucy said. "Just let me get Kentra taken care of, first."

The mare, which had been standing calmly at Lucy's shoulder, perked up at the sound of her name, looking unerringly toward the stables as though she knew what Lucy was talking about. She moved quickly behind her rider as they walked toward the stable, but her training kept her at Lucy's shoulder, even though she clearly wanted to go faster.

At the entrance to the stable, they were met by a Faun who bowed quickly before reaching for Kentra's reins.

"I'll take care of your mount, Majesty," the Faun said. "General Oreius commanded me to find you, so that you could be ready to leave, shortly."

"Thank you," Susan answered for both of them. "Come on, Lu. Let's go bother the boys."

They went back into the castle, and true to Susan's prediction, they found Peter and Edmund in the War Room, the younger sketching out maps on pieces of parchment while the older leaned over his shoulder, watching intently.

"This is what I remember of the layout of the area," Edmund said, his voice so quiet that Lucy could barely hear him. "The rogue Wolves live in the forests of the mountains, and they're very good at hiding. We might not even find them."

"You found them last time," Peter said, just as softly.

It may have just been Lucy's imagination, but Edmund seemed to go pale at Peter's words. Susan must have seen it, as well, because she cleared her throat, pointedly, getting their brothers' attention.

"You two need to start getting ready, if you're going to be leaving soon," was all she said.

Peter nodded, heading toward the door. Edmund gathered up the scraps of parchment he'd been writing on and then followed his siblings down the hallway. They made their way down to the armory, where Khyllian was clearly waiting for them. The arms-mistress had Peter and Edmund's armor waiting for them, as well as a smaller set for Lucy.

Lucy, with Susan's help, donned the heavy chainmail shirt that Khyllian passed to her. To her dismay, it was the same one she'd worn on the trek to Cair Paravel, and it still fell down past her knees. But, Khyllian had altered the armor, and there were now slits in the sides that ran up to her waist.

"So that you will be able to move easier," Khyllian told her, motioning for her to move so that she could see how the mail shirt fit on her. "The way it was before, you would not have been able to ride, at least not comfortably."

"Thank you," Lucy told her, and the Centaur nodded in reply.

"You'll want to wear this as well," Khyllian said, and she picked up a bright red tabard from a nearby table.

Lucy took the soft cloth, smiling when she saw the Lion rampant stitched in gold on the front. She slipped the tabard on over the mail, holding out her arms so that Susan could buckle the belt over all of it. And on the belt, she clipped her dagger and cordial.

"Our warrior Queen," Susan said, and Lucy could hear a choked note in her voice. But, when she looked at her sister, the older girl had a bright smile fixed firmly on her face.

On the other side of the armory, Peter and Edmund were undergoing the same preparations, with Khyllian helping them with the pieces of plate armor that fitted over their arms and shoulders. Peter accepted Rhindon from Khyllian, buckling the sword-belt around his waist, and Edmund followed suit with Shafelm.

Lucy found herself blinking back tears at the sight of her brothers, who looked like they were ready to go off to war, again. And from the suddenly solemn expressions on their faces, they'd come to the same realization about her.

"Well, that's it, then," Susan said, quietly, breaking into the silence that had fallen over the armory. "Are you ready?"

Peter caught his siblings' eyes, nodding determinedly. Then, the four of them left the armory, heading for the courtyard.

Oreius waited for them in the courtyard, along with what looked like half the army. Kentra was waiting beside Khyldaer, the Centaur holding her reins firmly. Swallowing hard, Lucy went over to where her guard was waiting, accepting Khyldaer's boost up into the saddle.

Across the courtyard, Peter and Edmund had mounted up as well. Peter was sitting astride the gray stallion that she'd seen in the stables, and the restive horse stomped a hoof, sending a puff of dirt up off the ground.

Lucy looked down toward Susan, who had a determined expression on her face. She looked like she was struggling not to cry, but when she spoke, her voice was quiet and clear.

"Aslan bless you all, and keep you safe," she wished them. "And come home, soon."

As if that was the signal they'd been waiting for, Oreius gestured, and Peter and Edmund's guard moved out, leaving the courtyard in a noisy rush. Then, it was their turn.

Lucy looked back at Susan, who gave her a quick, decisive nod. Looking over at Khyldaer, she saw the same determined look on the Centaur's face.

"Let's go," Lucy said, quietly, and they moved out, leaving Cair Paravel behind them.


	20. Into the Fire

**Author's Note:** This chapter, and the ones after it, have changed almost completely from how I originally planned them out. There were a couple of different ways that I could have ended this chapter, but this one sets up the next plot line the best.

To everyone who's been reading and reviewing, thank you so much. Virtual cookies to whomever knows where Peter's horse is from. The fun is just beginning.

**Chapter Twenty: Into the Fire**

The forest was eerily quiet as Peter, Edmund, and the rest of their party rode through it. The only sound was leaves crunching beneath the Horses' and Centaurs' hooves; even the birds were silent.

"This feels like a bad omen," Peter remarked, quietly.

"This isn't the best situation that we're walking into," Edmund told him, his hand tightening involuntarily in Philip's mane as old memories resurfaced.

"What are we walking into?" Peter pressed, gently, when his brother fell silent. "How well do you know these rogue Wolves that we're going to meet?"

Edmund took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself for something, and Philip whickered in quiet encouragement.

"It was during my first year in Narnia," he said, quietly. "Oreius, Philip, and I were out on an exploratory mission, and a storm blew in. Philip and I got separated from Oreius, we got lost in the storm-"

"We almost died," the stallion added, when Edmund trailed off. "If we hadn't been found by Tamnar-"

"Who's Tamnar?" Peter asked, forcing down the fear he felt at Philip's declaration.

"Tamnar and his family are Black Dwarves that live in the mountains," Edmund told him. "They were enslaved by the Witch, forced to work for her, making armor for her troops."

"I thought the Black Dwarves were on her side of their own choice," Peter said, confused.

"Not all of them," Edmund replied. "But, I didn't know that at the time."

When he trailed off, again, a haunted look in his eyes, Peter had to resist the urge to press him for more information. Whatever had happened four years ago, it had obviously left his mark on his brother.

_'I'm not going to let them hurt you, again,'_ he thought, fiercely, and, as if he'd sensed his thoughts, Edmund looked over at him, and Peter gave him a reassuring smile.

"So, these Wolves," he asked, hating to bring up what was obviously bad memories, but needing to know, nonetheless.

"Tamnar's clan was hiding us from the Witch," Edmund said, picking up his earlier thread. "I was working in the forge, helping them, and I'd gone out to get more wood for the fires. I stumbled into the Wolves' territory, by accident, and they were hunting me."

"Hunting you?" Peter echoed, incredulously, his fingers tightening involuntarily around Rhindon's hilt.

His mount, reacting to his sudden tension, skittered to the side, and Peter took a deep breath to calm himself as he soothed the nervous horse.

"They thought I served the Witch," Edmund told him. "They were few, and they were scared, and they didn't believe that I wasn't on her side."

"That's ridiculous," Peter protested, immediately, earning a hesitant smile from Edmund.

"The Wolves found me before I could get back to the smithy," he continued. "I was surrounded, and I couldn't fight them. They would have killed me, if Oreius hadn't shown up."

Peter got the feeling that Edmund was over-simplifying what had been a very bad, very complicated situation. But, neither Oreius nor Philip was speaking up, so whatever he was holding back, it was something intensely personal, and most likely not relevant to their mission.

He just hoped that, whatever it was, it didn't make Edmund freeze up at a critical moment.

"These Wolves aren't likely to react well to our presence, are they?" he asked, finally, and Edmund shook his head.

"Things are tense enough, with them, and if they really are harboring a pack of fugitive Wolves, it's only going to make things worse," he replied.

"Good way to practice our diplomacy," Peter said, lightly, and Edmund's mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"That's certainly one way of looking at things," he said, softly.

They lapsed into silence, then, riding along until they reached their crossing at the Great River. They'd crossed the River Rush earlier in the day, but as they stared down at it, Peter could see that the Rush had been a tame creek compared to the fury that was the Great River.

"This might be a problem," he remarked, quietly, looking at the churning water in front of them. "I don't remember it being this wild, even when we fell in."

"You fell in?" Edmund echoed, incredulously, reminding Peter that he, Susan, and Lucy hadn't finished telling their brother everything about their flight from the Witch.

"Just a little bit," Peter muttered, defensively, earning an eye roll and an exasperated sigh from Edmund.

"The river's been frozen for one hundred years," Oreius explained, joining them. "But, the Witch's spell was no true winter, and so when it was broken, the ice melted all at once, rather than gradually."

"Leading to this," Edmund finished for him, nodding at the river.

"So, how are we going to cross?" Peter asked, getting back to the problem at hand.

"There is a bridge near the Dancing Lawn," Oreius told them. "We could cross there."

"As good an idea as any," Peter said, turning his horse and following the path of the river.

They reached the Dancing Lawn, shortly, staring in dismay at the broken struts that were all that remained of the bridge.

"So much for the bridge," Bertran muttered, pacing uneasily at the edge of the river.

He wasn't the only one. The Cats were staring at the water with obvious distaste, and even most of the soldiers who liked water looked apprehensive at the idea of crossing the river.

"We could continue to go around the Great River," Oreius offered, into the silence that had fallen over the group. "We would avoid a crossing, but add several days to our journey."

"Can we cross, safely?" Peter asked.

"It's possible," Oreius allowed, after a moment.

"We could fly ropes across," a Gryphon offered, bowing slightly to Peter and Edmund as he and another Gryphon joined them at the edge of the river. "You could use the ropes to cross."

"And slings to fly those across who can't use the ropes," Edmund added. "We could use the tents."

"Do it," Peter said, and everyone scrambled to comply. "Do you ever get used to that?" he asked, in an undertone, to Edmund, after his offers to help were carefully turned down by several members of their guard.

"They're just intimidated by you," Edmund replied. "You're High King Peter, the Magnificent, the hero of the Battle of Beruna."

"So, they're always going to be nervous around me?" Peter asked, not liking the sound of that.

"Just give everyone time," Edmund told him. A wicked grin spread over his face as he added, "You should let them see you in the morning, when you're stumbling around and walking into walls because you can't wake up."

"Very funny," Peter said, dryly.

Once the ropes were tied off to trees on either side of the river, the Gryphons started using the tents to ferry soldiers across. Peter started toward the nearest rope, but then stopped, patting Hengroen's neck when the horse shuddered beneath him.

"You can do it," he murmured, quietly, as the stallion pricked his ears back at him. "Just a little swim; there's nothing to it."

When the stallion quieted, Peter urged him forward, again, following Edmund and Philip into the river. Following his brother's example, Peter clamped his legs tightly around Hengroen's sides, wrapping his arms around the rope as the horse stepped into the river.

As they went deeper into the middle of the river, Peter could feel the water beating mercilessly at them, and he tightened his grip on the rope to keep them steady. A few steps later, Hengroen's stride changed, and he could feel the horse swimming beneath him, his powerful legs moving swiftly through the water.

Before he knew it, they'd reached the other side of the river, and Hengroen scrambled up the rocky bank, quickly. Peter leaned down and rubbed the horse's shoulder, crooning praise into his ears. Edmund, hearing him, hid a smirk behind his hand as he turned to watch the rest of the guard make their way across the river.

When everyone was safely across, the Gryphons collected the ropes, and they continued on their way. When they finally reached a place to stop for the night, Peter looked around at the clearing.

"This looks like someone's already been using it for a campsite," he commented.

"Someone has," Edmund said, and Peter looked over at him in shock at the tension in his voice. His younger brother's face was pale, his lips pressed in a tight line as he added, "This was the Witch's camp."

"We could find some other place," Peter offered, quietly, as he realized that this place was going to stir up some bad memories for Edmund.

"It's getting too dark to keep going," Edmund replied, shaking his head. "No, we'll just camp here for the night. It – it's fine."

Peter hated the hesitant tone in his brother's voice, the fear he could hear just under the surface, but he nodded, anyway. Edmund was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be; there'd be no changing his mind, now.

"Set up camp," he called out, dismounting from his saddle without another word.

Tents went up in a flurry of motion, cook fires were lit, and dinner was started. Peter watched, worriedly, as Edmund picked listlessly at his food, finally giving up on dinner to wander away from their fire. He stopped in front of a large tree at the middle of the clearing, staring at the tree with a haunted look in his eyes.

Peter joined him, staying quiet so as not to startle Edmund, who looked lost and kind of broken, like he had after he'd been rescued from the Witch. Edmund was compulsively rubbing his wrists as he stared down at the base of the tree – and at the frayed, bloodstained ropes circling it.

"Eddy?" he finally asked, softly, hoping that the nickname, if nothing else, would draw his brother out of the fugue he'd fallen into. "Ed, are you all right?"

"I still see her," Edmund whispered. "Every time I close my eyes, she's waiting for me."

"The Witch is dead," Peter said, firmly.

"I know," Edmund replied, and Peter could hear his voice catch as he bit back a sob. "I just-"

"She can't hurt you, anymore," Peter told him, grabbing Edmund by the shoulders and spinning him around to face him. "She is never going to hurt you, again."

Edmund finally nodded, wordlessly, letting Peter pull him against his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around Edmund, hearing the younger boy's unsteady breathing as he fought to gain control of himself. He rubbed his hands up and down Edmund's back, soothingly, and finally he could feel Edmund relax into his embrace.

When Edmund finally pulled away, his eyes were red and puffy, with tear tracks drying on his cheeks. He gave Peter a shaky smile, wiping the tears away from his cheeks with an otherwise steady hand.

"Thank you," he said, softly, and Peter just nodded, clapping his brother on the back.

"How about we spar a little bit before we lose the light?" he suggested. "Maybe I'll even let you beat me, again."

"Let me?" Edmund echoed, glaring playfully at Peter. "I beat you fair and square, O High King."

"Sure, you did," Peter replied, ducking as Edmund swatted the back of his head. "I'm just saying, you're in for a fight, now."

"We'll see about that," Edmund promised, as they went to where they'd stowed their gear.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Good morning, Majesty," Khyldaer greeted Lucy, as she crawled out of her tent, yawning.

"Morning," Lucy returned, accepting the hunk of bread that he held out for breakfast. "What is the plan for the morning?"

"I thought that we would follow the coast until midmorning," Khyldaer told her. "And then we should follow Glasswater Creek inland for the rest of the day."

"That sounds like a good plan," Lucy replied, still yawning.

They'd spent the previous day after leaving Cair Paravel traveling down the coast, searching for and restoring any Creatures that had been turned to stone. Most had gone back to their homes and families after being returned to life, and for those who had neither, Lucy had directed them to Cair Paravel, for Susan and Vaius to sort out. A few had friends or family among her guard, including a Black Bear who'd been reunited with his lost brothers, and they'd elected to join her guard in their mission, reasoning that more eyes would be better in searching.

They'd made camp around sunset, and then Khyldaer had taken her aside and showed her how to fight with her dagger. He'd only shown her a few defensive moves, but he'd made sure that she'd had those few maneuvers memorized to the point of being almost instinctual. He'd told her that it was unlikely that she would need to defend herself, but he wanted to make sure that she would be safe if anything happened.

The rest of the night had passed, peacefully, and now they were getting on their way. The camp, as it was breaking up, was loud and boisterous, but Lucy welcomed the noise and energy. It helped her to wake up.

Digging through her packs, she grabbed the canteen and drank half of the water, saving the rest for later. Kentra was tethered near her tent, and the mare whickered a greeting when she saw Lucy. Someone had fed the mare, and she plunged eagerly back into the pile of hay at her hooves, ignoring Lucy as she grabbed a soft brush and started grooming the mare.

"Majesty," a voice said, and Lucy turned to see Glorian standing nearby. "We're almost ready to go, if you'd like me to help you finish getting ready."

Lucy nodded, gratefully, accepting the Centaur's help in getting Kentra tacked up. Glorian secured her rolled-up tent to the back of the saddle, and then he boosted Lucy up onto Kentra's back.

"I can't wait until I'm tall enough not to need help," she said, wryly, earning a smile from Glorian as he trotted off to join the rest of the guard.

Lucy nudged Kentra with her heels, guiding her over to where Khyldaer was standing, and when she'd joined him, the Captain gestured for everyone to move out.

They'd been traveling for a couple of hours when they stopped on top of a bluff that overlooked the Eastern Sea.

"And that," Khyldaer was saying, "is Glasswater – what in the name of the Lion?"

His startled exclamation had Lucy looking up in surprise, and she felt her eyebrows fly into her hairline. A Faun lay on the ground, trussed up tightly with ropes that looked to be cutting into his skin. The Faun was struggling, futilely, against his restraints, but he stopped when he saw their group, relief plain in his eyes.

"Thank the Lion," he breathed, gratefully, as Lucy jumped out of Kentra's saddle and ran forward, dagger in hand.

She sawed through the tight ropes, carefully, trying not to cut the Faun as she worked. When she freed him, he sprang to his hooves, staggering wildly as he tried to stay upright.

"Who did this to you?" Lucy demanded, incredulously, wrapping an arm around the Faun to help keep him on his hooves.

The rest of the guard joined them, and Khyldaer stepped forward with Kentra's reins wrapped around his fist.

"We should get to safety before we continue this conversation," he suggested, and Lucy nodded, accepting the Centaur's help back into Kentra's saddle.

"What about-" Lucy started, gesturing at the Faun. She passed him her canteen, and the Faun gulped down the water, gratefully.

"Covair, my Lady," the Faun interjected, quickly. "I believe I can walk. I was not tied up for long."

"Then, lets move," Khyldaer said, abruptly, whirling around.

They'd only made it a few hundred yards away from the edge of the cove when Glorian, on point, called for an abrupt halt. Lucy and Khyldaer moved to the front of the group to join him, and once again, Lucy found herself being surprised by what she saw in front of her.

There was a group of about a dozen humans, all male, coming toward them.

"I thought there were no humans in Narnia," Lucy said, slowly, watching the men.

"There aren't," Khyldaer said, his voice clipped as he put himself squarely between Lucy and the men.

"Excuse me!" Lucy called out, even though she stayed behind Khyldaer as he'd indicated. "What is your business here?"

The biggest of the men turned at the sound of her voice, a slow smile spreading over his face when he saw who they were facing. He elbowed the man next to him, gesturing to the small group with a jerk of his chin. Lucy started to feel nervous at the look on the men's faces.

"Well, what do we have, here?" the first man asked, advancing slowly on them. "This is quite a sight, especially for Narnia."

"Wherever you came from, you'd do well to return to it," Khyldaer informed the men. "I will not tell you, again."

The man laughed, a cold, humorless sound that made Lucy's skin crawl.

"Hear that, boys?" he called back to the other men. "Sounds like a challenge, to me."

"Sounds to me like the dogs need to be taught who their masters are," another man spoke up, his voice a low growl.

"Slavers," a quiet voice said, from near the ground, and Lucy looked down to see a Cheetah stalking forward until she stood beside Kentra.

The mare shifted uneasily at the predator so close to her, but her training held and she stood quietly, after a few seconds. The Cheetah, in acknowledgement, moved a few steps away, her dark eyes never leaving the men.

"Narnia doesn't have slaves," Lucy said, trying to force down the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Unfortunately, Majesty," Khyldaer said, quietly, "not everyone believes the same way."

"What do we do?" Lucy asked, taking a deep breath to quiet the tremble in her voice.

"You will retreat to safety," Khyldaer told her. "We will drive these monsters off."

Lucy nodded, tugging gently on the reins until Kentra began to back up slowly, step by step. Khyldaer shifted in front of her, blocking her view of the slavers. The rest of her guard tightened around her, half of them moving with her as the rest moved forward to stand beside Khyldaer. Then, someone gasped from behind her, a sharp intake of breath that had her drawing Kentra to a quick stop.

"We have a problem," broke into the silence that followed, and Lucy recognized Glorian's voice. "We're surrounded."

From the front of the guard, Lucy could hear Khyldaer swearing softly under his breath. A low growl spread throughout the group, and everyone around her was tense with anxiety.

"Your little escape plan not going so well?" the leader of the slavers asked, a mocking tone in his voice. "You could always make this easy on yourselves and just surrender."

"You have one chance to leave Narnia, peacefully," Lucy called out, before anyone else could say anything. Forcing herself to meet the leader's eyes, she added, "If you do not leave on your own, we will make you leave."

The leader was silent for a long moment, but Lucy didn't fool herself into believing that he was thinking about her offer. She closed her hand around the hilt of her dagger, trying to remember everything that Khyldaer had taught her the night before.

Finally, the leader of the slavers broke the silence.

"Take them," he snarled, and his men surged forward, unveiling hidden weapons as they closed on the Narnians.

"Majesty, run!" Khyldaer roared, drawing his massive broadsword with a rasp of steel on steel.

"Let go of them!" Lucy yelled, ignoring Khyldaer's barked order.

The slavers predictably ignored her command. One of the men started toward her, tossing a long-bladed knife from hand to hand. Her eyes rolling wildly, Kentra pranced backward several paces, but Lucy shortened the reins, bringing the mare to a halt.

"Get out of here!" Khyldaer ordered, brusquely.

Lucy shook her head, unwilling to leave her guards behind, but Kentra took the decision out of her hands. The already-panicked mare tossed her head, tearing the reins out of Lucy's hands, and then she wheeled around, bolting away from the fighting going on around them. They'd only made it a short distance before they were overcome by the invaders. Strong ropes were thrown around Kentra's neck, dragging the mare, screaming, to the ground.

Lucy shrieked, loudly, when an arm was wrapped around her waist, forcibly dragging her from Kentra's saddle. She clawed and kicked, wildly, feeling flesh give beneath her boots. When a hand was clamped down over her mouth, she bit down, hard, tasting blood before she was freed.

Kentra, seeing the danger her rider was in, lashed out with a powerful hind leg. The blow connected and the man crumpled to the ground, bellowing in agony as the heavy hoof shattered the bones in his leg. His grip on Lucy weakened, and she took advantage of the opportunity to run for her life.

She was tackled to the ground a few seconds later, and the breath was knocked from her lungs as she was crushed below her attacker. Then, the man who had tackled her pulled her up off the ground, wrapping an arm around her throat. He squeezed, cutting off her air, and Lucy's vision swam as she gasped for breath.

Her struggles to free herself weakened, and, Khyldaer's defiant screams ringing in her ears, the world went black.


	21. Sword and Shield

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, and virtual cookies for everyone. And for those who didn't know, Hengroen is one of King Arthur's horses. He and Peter have more than a lot in common.

**Chapter Twenty-One: Sword and Shield**

They broke camp early in the morning, before the sun had even risen on the horizon. They rode silently through the slowly-lightening darkness, with only the sound of jangling armor to break the still quiet. They were still following the Great River, tracing its meandering path through the low foothills of the Black Mountains.

Peter and Edmund rode at the front of their guard, with Oreius alongside. Very little conversation passed between the brothers, although Peter broke the silence occasionally to ask about landmarks that they went by. Edmund always answered Peter's questions, but the further into the forests they travelled, the more distracted he became. He was more withdrawn than he'd been last night, and Peter was starting to get worried.

He hated seeing the old, tired look on his brother's face, watching him get lost in old memories as he battled personal demons. There were shadows under his eyes that Peter would have given anything to erase, and his hands kept clutching convulsively at Philip's mane.

Behind them, the rest of the guard was just as quiet, just as tense. Everyone was on edge, like a powder keg about to explode.

"I will be glad," Peter said, quietly, "when this is over with and we're back at Cair Paravel."

"Peace will be a welcome change," Oreius agreed. "This war has gone on long enough."

"Have we reached the mountains, yet?" Peter asked, looking around at the forests that surrounded them.

They'd been traveling for hours, now, but all they'd seen were more and more forests. The only break in the monotony of the trees was the river that they followed, although it had narrowed, considerably, and was much less turbulent than it was further downstream.

"We've been travelling through the Mountains for the last hour, actually," Oreius said, surprising Peter. "But it's a very low ascent to begin with."

"So, why are we still following the river?" Peter asked. "If we're in the mountains-"

"The Great River is born from glaciers near the peak of the mountains," Bertran said, trotting up alongside Peter. "It flows down through the mountains and runs through Narnia."

"Have you been here, before?" Peter asked, curiously, looking down at the Wolf.

"A long time ago," Bertran answered, shortly. "I was born here. My pack-"

He trailed off, but Peter knew what he was going to say.

"Your pack died here," he finished, quietly. "I'm sorry, Bertran."

"It feels strange to be back," Bertran replied. "There was a time when I swore I'd never set foot in these mountains, ever again."

"Thank you for coming with us," Peter told him, after a few seconds. "I know how hard this must be for you, but we couldn't do this without you, Bertran."

"Thank you, Majesty," Bertran said, sounding surprised.

Someone from the back of the formation called the Wolf's name, and, after a quick, parting nod to Peter, he whirled and ran back to join them.

Peter watched him go, and then turned to look at Edmund, to see how his brother was handling things. Edmund was still silent, deep lines furrowed into his forehead as he stared off into the distance. Nudging Hengroen with his heels, Peter got closer to Edmund, bumping his brother's arm lightly with his own.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, quietly.

"I just want this to be over," Edmund said, his voice rough.

"Remember what I said yesterday about bad omens?" Peter said, looking around at the trees that surrounded them. "It's getting worse."

"I'm starting to wonder if maybe we shouldn't have come," Edmund admitted, quietly.

"You should listen to those feelings," a new voice spoke up, and Philip and Hengroen both shied, suddenly, startled by a rangy Wolf that popped up right under their noses. "We don't like intruders in our territory."

"So, you speak for the rogues, now, Cyrran?" Bertran asked, coming forward to confront the other Wolf.

"I lead them," Cyrran replied. "Their numbers have dwindled, thanks to the White Witch; mine and I have sworn to protect them."

"Protect them from what?" Peter interjected, as he urged Hengroen forward, again.

"From boot-licking sycophants like him," the Wolf snarled, glaring at Bertran. "From those who would try to continue the Witch's work, just like Maugrim."

"I loved my brother," Bertran told her. "That doesn't mean that I was loyal to the Witch."

"So you say," Cyrran said, distrust plain in her voice. Looking up at Peter, she asked, "What are you doing here, Son of Adam?"

"We came to find you," Peter told her. "Two nights ago, a Wolf called Shendar came to Cair Paravel."

"He left us a week ago," Cyrran said. "I would have gone after him, but I couldn't risk the safety of my pack. You said that you've found him?"

"He found us," Peter said, slowly.

He hesitated with the next bit of news that he had to impart, knowing how he'd react if he was hearing the same sort of thing about Edmund, Susan, or Lucy.

"He attacked us," he admitted, finally. "We were forced to defend ourselves."

"You killed Shendar," Cyrran said, slowly, her golden eyes never leaving Peter's face.

"I killed him," Peter told her, "when he attacked my sister."

"Regardless," Cyrran spat out, "he is dead by your sword."

"I had no other choice," Peter said, feeling like he was being backed into a corner.

"Neither do I," came the Wolf's reply. "I challenge you, High King, in my brother's name. I challenge you to a fight to the death."

A low rumble went up through the guard at the Wolf's words, the fighters tightening their ranks protectively around their King. At the same time, Edmund and Philip moved forward, placing themselves squarely between Peter and Cyrran. Edmund drew his sword from its sheath, his eyes hard.

"You'll have to go through me to get to him," he threatened, only backing down when Peter put a hand on his arm.

"May we have a moment?" he asked, and Cyrran nodded, stiffly, backing away to the edge of the clearing to give them privacy.

Peter urged Hengroen backward, feeling the stallion shudder with relief as they got further away from the unknown Wolf. He rejoined Oreius, with Edmund following reluctantly behind.

"You do not have to fight," Oreius told him, before he could say anything. "Their forces undoubtedly number far fewer than ours; they would not risk a confrontation by coming after us if you refuse the Wolf's challenge."

"But we lose any chance of having them as allies," Peter said, seeing acknowledgement pass across the Centaur's face. "No, I can't back down. Not if we expect to keep these rogues on our side."

"Then, I'll fight in your place," Edmund spoke up, his voice still tight with tension. "Rules of formal combat state that either combatant may choose a second to fight for them."

"Only if the one who appoints the second is in no condition to fight," Oreius corrected him, although the admission sounded as though it was being dragged from him.

"Then, I guess I have no choice," Peter said, as Edmund cursed softly under his breath.

"Let's get you ready, then," his brother said, after a moment.

Slinging his leg over Philip's back, he jumped to the ground and landed lightly on his feet. Peter, for his part, climbed awkwardly out of Hengroen's saddle, wincing at the cramps that shot through his legs as he hit the ground.

He tried to hide the pain that flashed across his face, but he must not have been successful, because Edmund sighed when he glanced over at him, a flash of anger crossing his face before his expression went blank, again.

"May we have an hour before your duel?" he called out to Cyrran, his eyes never leaving Peter.

The Wolf considered Edmund's request for a few seconds before nodding.

"I will return in one hour," she said, before whirling around and vanishing into the trees.

"For someone who's trying to kill me, she's being awfully accommodating," Peter commented, as he limped over to where Edmund was waiting.

"I'm beginning to think that when she said that she had no choice," Edmund replied, "that she meant it. She doesn't seem like she wants to fight you."

"But she has to, to avenge her brother's death," Peter finished for him.

At Edmund's gesture, Peter sank down to sit next to his brother, looking curiously over to where Edmund had both of their packs spread open on the ground beside them. Wordlessly, Edmund reached out and grabbed Peter's foot, tugging until Peter shifted so that his legs were stretched out across Edmund's. Then, Edmund dug his fingers into the back of Peter's calf, working out the knots in the muscles.

"You can't fight if you can't stand up," he said, by way of explanation. "You'll still need to stretch out when I'm done, but this will take care of the worst of it."

"Thanks," Peter said, wincing as Edmund's kneading fingers caught a particularly tight knot. "I guess I'm not used to riding for hours, yet."

"You will be," Edmund told him.

He lapsed into silence, focusing on his massage. His head was bowed so that Peter couldn't see his expression, but he could read the tight line of his brother's shoulders as easy as a book.

"What's wrong?" he asked, quietly, and Edmund sighed in resignation.

"I'm scared," he admitted, softly. "We'd just barely had the chance to be a family, again, and then we had to split up. And, now you're going to fight Cyrran, and it's to the death-"

"I'm not going to die," Peter reassured him, but Edmund shook his head.

"You don't know that," he said. "Peter, I can't lose you."

Pulling his legs out of Edmund's grip, Peter shifted around until he could wrap his arms around his younger brother, pulling Edmund to his chest and holding on tight.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, fiercely, blinded by a sudden rush of tears that clouded his vision.

Edmund hugged him back, just as hard, trembling in Peter's embrace. When he pulled away, his eyes were suspiciously wet.

"See that you don't," he said. "Because if you die, I will never forgive you."

"Noted," Peter said, stretching out to ease the last of the ache in his legs.

While he was stretching, he could hear Edmund rummaging around in their packs. Lifting his head, he watched as Edmund pulled his extra pieces of armor out of his packs, laying them in a neat line on the ground. They'd both dressed only in light armor, that morning, to spare Philip and Hengroen the unnecessary weight, but now it looked like Edmund was outfitting him for war.

Which, in his brother's mind, he probably was. Peter could see how unhappy he still was about everything, even if he was willing to drop the subject, but if it eased Edmund's mind even a little bit to kit him out in full armor, Peter wasn't going to say anything.

He stood still as Edmund fastened the greaves to his legs, then shifted his weight, testing his flexibility. The vambraces followed, but he shook his head when Edmund held out the accompanying gloves.

"Cyrran looks fast," he said. "I don't want any extra weight that will slow me down."

Edmund nodded. "You'll want to forgo your shield, then," he replied. "It'll just get in your way. Use your vambraces, instead. Her chest and torso are vulnerable, but her shoulders and hindquarters are pure muscle."

"Anything else I should know?" Peter asked, as he took Rhindon from Edmund's outstretched hands.

"I assume you're looking not to kill her?" Edmund asked, and Peter nodded, emphatically.

"There's been enough bloodshed, already," he said. "I just want to fight her to a standstill."

"She'll probably accept that," Edmund replied, "since she's followed the rules of formal combat so far. Which could work in your favor."

"How so?" Peter asked.

"Despite her claim, maybe she doesn't want to fight you to the death, either," Edmund pointed out.

"Here's hoping," Peter muttered.

He caught a flash of gray out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Cyrran emerging from the far tree line. She was alone, just as she'd been when she confronted them, earlier, and Peter thought that it was a deliberate choice. If he won, Cyrran would take them to the rogues and introduce them; but if she won, no one in her pack would be know that they had ever been there. Peter found his respect for the Wolf growing, seeing her devotion to protecting her pack.

Cyrran paused at the edge of the clearing, her attention caught by something, and Peter followed her gaze to see her locking eyes with Edmund. Peter couldn't interpret the silent communication passing between the pair, but after a few seconds, Cyrran nodded slowly to Edmund, as though acknowledging something.

"What was that about?" Peter asked, but Edmund shook his head.

"Good luck," was all he said, and then he stepped back to join the rest of the guard as they ringed the fighters in the center of the clearing.

Peter strode forward, meeting Cyrran halfway. He didn't know what to expect – an outright attack, maybe, but the Wolf surprised him by bowing in a ritualistic manner, her eyes never leaving his face. After a startled moment, Peter bowed back, crossing Rhindon across his chest. When he straightened, Cyrran backed a few steps away, circling him slowly.

Peter held Rhindon in front of him in a guard position, watching the Wolf's movements, warily. He could see the play of muscles under her skin as she moved in a slow, graceful prowl, and when she tensed to spring, he was ready. He twisted out of the way as she leapt for him, spinning to follow her as she landed behind him.

She whirled around as soon as her paws touched the grass, lunging at him, again. This time, he took Edmund's advice and swung his arm out as he sidestepped, clipping her on the side of the head with his vambrace. The blow knocked her to the ground, but she rolled to her paws, quickly, shaking her head and staggering, slightly.

"I will not underestimate you, again, High King," she said, a grudging respect in her voice.

"You mean you've been going easy on me, before now?" Peter muttered, startling a growling laugh out of the Wolf.

She feinted, suddenly, but he pulled up short when she danced backward, eyeing him, speculatively. He knew he had to have left himself open, falling for her move like he had, but she didn't take the opportunity to cripple him. Instead, she waited until he had regained his balance, silent as she circled him.

She lunged, again, unexpectedly, and when he staggered backward, she rushed him. Slamming into his legs, she knocked him to the ground. Peter twisted as he was falling, lashing out and catching the Wolf in the ribs with his booted foot. The force of the blow knocked her backward, panting for breath, and Peter rolled to his feet.

He swept Rhindon out in an arc, slamming the flat of the blade into her side and making her stagger. He continued the blow into a reverse arc that caught her on the other side, and she slipped on the grass, crashing heavily to the ground. Before she could recover, Peter had Rhindon's blade lying lightly on her neck. She froze at the contact, rolling an eye back to watch him, carefully.

"Well?" she prompted, when he just stood there, breathing heavily. "Our duel was to the death. Are you going to kill me?"

"No," Peter said, watching surprise flash across her face. "Will you surrender, anyway?"

The Wolf was silent for so long that Peter was afraid that she was going to try to fight her way out from underneath the blade. Then, she jerked her head in a movement that might have been a nod.

"I yield," she said, shortly, and Peter stepped back, dropping Rhindon to rest the point of the sword on the grass.

Cyrran climbed slowly to her feet, watching him the whole time. Then, she bowed low, one leg stretched out in front of her as her head almost touched the ground.

"Chosen of Aslan and of Narnia," she said, as she straightened. "And now I see why."

"Will you take us to the rogues?" Peter asked.

"This way," Cyrran said, trotting past him into the trees.

Peter waited until Edmund had caught up with him, taking Hengroen's reins from his brother. As he led the horse forward, following the Wolf, Edmund slung an arm across his shoulders, matching him step for step.

"That was very well done," he said, quietly.

"Thanks," Peter said, pleased by his brother's praise. "And I think we gained a new ally in the process."

"We'll make a diplomat out of you, yet," Edmund teased, and Peter was happy to see a lighter expression on his younger brother's face.

He looked like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he was even smiling as they walked through the forest. He looked almost happy for the first time in days.

They'd been walking for almost half an hour when Cyrran stopped, suddenly, turning to face the group ranged behind her.

"My pack is in there," she said, indicating a thicker stand of trees with a jerk of her head. "I give you my word that none of your guard will come to harm while you reside with us."

"And you have my word, as well," Peter told her, and Cyrran bobbed her head in acknowledgement.

She led the way through the trees, and they emerged into a hidden paradise. A crystal-blue creek ran along one edge and enormous trees ringed the other borders of the clearing. The clearing was filled with Creatures; Wolves, like he'd expected, but also Bobcats, a couple of thin, scarred Tigers, and, to his amazement, a Minotaur.

He heard Edmund gasp beside him, and the Minotaur whipped its head around at the sound. It was then that Peter saw the scarred sockets that were all that was left of its eyes. The Beast sniffed the air, turning its head from side to side as it tried to place them, and Cyrran gave a soft wuff of breath as she trotted over to its side. The Minotaur relaxed as Cyrran pressed her nose to its hand, whining reassuringly.

"Welcome, Majesties," she said to Peter and Edmund, as everyone looked around in astonishment. "Welcome to our little refugee camp."


	22. Not Alone

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's been reading.

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Not Alone**

Waking to the sound of the water around her would have been lovely, Lucy discovered, if her hands hadn't been tied behind her back. She'd managed to push herself off the grimy floor she was lying on, to lean against the equally-filthy wall of wherever she was, but that was the extent of her movement.

It was dark, completely pitch-black, and impossible to see anything. Since she couldn't use her hands, she started to feel around the space with her feet, realizing very quickly that she was missing her boots, and probably her armor as well.

As she stretched her legs out, she winced when cramps seized her muscles, sending bolts of pain shooting up her legs. But, she gritted her teeth and bore down on the pain, waiting it out until the aches finally eased.

As she felt around carefully with her feet, she touched a soft lump in the corner. Probing further, gently, she discovered that the lump was actually a soft, furry body, and it wasn't moving. Her heart leapt into her throat as she tried to think of who among her guard it could be.

Suddenly, the unmoving body came alive, and Lucy froze at the feel of sharp teeth closing over her foot. She couldn't stop a sharp gasp from escaping, though, and the sound made her attacker freeze, as well. Then, the teeth disappeared, followed by a scratching on the floor as her attacker scrambled away from her.

"Majesty, forgive me," the Creature gasped, a horrified tone in his voice, and Lucy relaxed when she recognized Auric's voice.

"It's all right, Auric," she reassured him, as the Fox came closer and carefully bumped her arm with his nose. "You probably can't see any better than I can."

"The only one of us who might be able to see is Paan," Auric said, pressing his lean body up against her side.

"Even I cannot see without light," a throaty voice called out, from somewhere nearby, and Lucy thought she recognized the Cheetah who led the Cat battalion.

Around them, other Creatures were starting to wake up, and Lucy heard their confused, angry cries filling the space they were in. they sounded afraid, as well, and Lucy was finding it hard to suppress the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, and Auric nuzzled her arm in reassurance when he sensed her movement.

"Aslan is watching over us, Majesty," he whispered. "We are not alone."

His words were comforting, and Lucy found that it was easier to relax and let go of the fear and confusion that swamped her.

"My hands are tied," she said, pleased when her voice shook only a little bit. "Can you bite through the ropes?"

In answer, Auric disappeared from her side, and a few seconds later, she could feel his muzzle nuzzling gingerly along her wrists, trying to find the ropes. Then, she felt the sharp edge of his teeth against her skin as he started to gnaw through the ropes. He was going slowly, to avoid cutting her skin, and it was several long minutes before the last shreds of the rope fell away, freeing her hands.

Lucy brought her arms around and rested her hands in her lap, rubbing at her wrists to try and restore circulation to the numb limbs. Finally, she could feel a tingling start in her fingers, working slowly up her arms, and she sighed in relief.

"It sounds like we're on the water," she said, hearing the same sound that had woken her up. "Do you think we're in a ship?"

"It would be the most logical way for the slavers to hold their captives," a tired voice spoke up, and Lucy craned her neck around in the direction of Khyldaer's voice.

"I wonder where we're being taken," Lucy said, but there was no answer, and that was perhaps more terrifying than anything else.

Determined to keep the fear at bay, Lucy got up on her hands and knees and started feeling around her, to try and figure out where they were. She could feel rough wood underneath her hands, and she winced when she realized that she was picking up splinters.

Crawling away from the wall, she moved for only a short distance before her hands encountered metal, and careful exploration revealed that they were shaped into bars. She realized that she and Auric were being held in a cell when she encountered similar bars on two other sides.

Gripping the bars, she pulled herself to her feet, one hand above her head to feel for the ceiling, and shield her head if it was lower than she anticipated. But, she couldn't feel anything above her, and she wondered if there were bars on the top of the cell or if it was an open space.

There was a crossbar about halfway up the wall and, still holding onto the bars, she jumped up and managed to catch one knee on the crossbar. Scrambling to get her other leg up on the tiny ledge, she very carefully climbed to her feet. She was suddenly grateful that someone had taken her boots, being barefoot made it easier to grip the metal and keep from falling.

Taking care not to disturb her precarious balance, Lucy reached above her head, once more, and this time, she touched the tops of the metal bars. To her amazement, there were no bars stretching across the air above her head, and she realized that the tops of the cells were completely open.

But, before she could do anything with that information, there was a scraping noise, and then light flooded the space as a door was thrown open. Lucy froze as the light hit her, but the person who entered wasn't any of the slavers who'd captured them at Glasswater Creek.

Instead, a young boy, about her age, moved carefully down the stairs that led into the area where they were being kept. Seeing her standing on the crossbar, the boy gave her a lopsided smile as he approached.

"You'll want to get down," he told her. "Cap'n Aziz won't be happy if he sees you tryin' to escape."

Lucy jumped to the floor, feeling the impact ring through her legs as she landed. But, the distance wasn't really any further than the top of Kentra's back, and the pain went away, quickly. The reminder of her beloved mount had her looking around quickly, but when she didn't see the mare, she wondered if the slavers had killed her. The thought made her very unhappy.

But, she hid her emotions when she realized that the boy was still looking at her, a curious look on her face. She expected the boy to say something, but instead he turned and started lighting sconces along the wall, the flares of light dissipating the shadows that had hidden the rest of her people.

With the rest of the area thrown into sharp relief by the light, Lucy saw that there were cells crammed from wall to wall, filling the space with only a small, open walkway between the two caged areas. Her fellow Narnians were crammed into the tiny cells, although because of their size, both Khyldaer and Glorian had cells to themselves.

Both Centaurs were lying down, not moving even when the boy came near their cells to light the sconces on the wall. Lucy was already worried, but she became even more so when the sconces lit up the area of the Centaur's cells, and she could see that their back legs were lying at an awkward angle to their bodies.

"Oh, they'll be fine," the boy spoke up, suddenly, seeing the direction of her gaze. "Cap'n Aziz does that to all those kinds of Creatures we bring in. Keeps 'em tractable until we get to the market."

"What, exactly, did he do?" Lucy asked, quietly.

"He broke the small bones in their legs," the boy said, casually, as if it was nothing important. "They'll heal up enough for them to walk by the time we're at the market, and after that, it's the problem of their new owners."

"That's barbaric," Lucy hissed, struggling to keep her voice calm as she felt tears spring to her eyes.

Her people were injured and in pain, and now more than ever, she keenly felt the loss of her healing vial. She wondered if she'd lost it in the struggle, or if their captors had it. She knew it was small of her, but she hoped that, if the slavers did have her vial, that they never found out what it was for. After what they'd done to her people, they didn't deserve its magic.

"It's standard practice," the boy told her, and he looked puzzled as to why she would be so upset. "They're not crippled, forever."

Lucy just shook her head, unwilling to say anything else. She was afraid that she would start yelling at the boy if she kept on the current topic.

The boy, meanwhile, had disappeared up the stairs to the upper deck of the ship, and he came back a few minutes later with several wooden bowls in his arms. He also carried a thick, short stick that he banged on the bars of the cells, making the captives jump back in shock as he quickly opened the doors to slide the bowls in.

Lucy had to force herself not to startle when he slammed the stick into the bars of her cell, even though the noise echoed in the small space, becoming almost deafening. Instead, she stepped forward and accepted the bowls that he would have just dropped on the floor, startling the boy into meeting her eyes.

They stared at each other for several seconds, and the boy was the first to break his gaze. He slammed the cell door shut, almost catching her fingers in the process, but Lucy didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her jerk away.

She deliberately turned her back on the boy, moving over to where Auric was waiting for her. Setting one of the bowls in front of the Fox, she lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged as she contemplated the contents of the bowl. A thin, gray, watery substance sat in the bottom, and when she ran her fingers gingerly through it, she could feel lumps.

She pulled one out, revealing a hunk of something that might have been meat at one point. Lucy really didn't want to think about where it could have come from; she wanted to get sick just considering the possibilities. But, it was food, and with the situation they were in, none of them could afford to turn their noses up at it.

"I know it's not what we're used to," she called out, when she looked around and saw that the rest of her people were giving the unappetizing slop the same dubious looks. "But, everyone needs to eat. We need to keep our strength up."

So saying, she scooped some of the slop up with her fingers and licked them clean, nearly gagging at the taste. But, she gamely swallowed, anyway. Following her example, everyone else starting eating as well, with various expressions of disgust on their faces.

The boy had settled down in the middle of the walkway, watching all of them, silently. When they'd finished eating, he went around and collected the bowls, probably under orders not to leave them with anything that could have been used as a weapon. He left with the bowls, the door shutting behind him, and Lucy was surprised when he returned a few minutes later.

He had a pile of leather strips in his hands, and he settled back in his place in the middle of the floor, braiding the strips with quick, efficient movements. Under his hands, longer strips of the leather were emerging, and Lucy wondered what they were going to be used for. But, she had other questions she wanted answered, first.

"You said that we're being taken to a market," she asked, and the boy looked up at the sound of her voice. "What market are we going to?"

"The slave market, of course," the boy said, as if the answer should have been obvious. "The Great Market in Taashban."

"And where is this Taashban?" Lucy asked, watching the boy's eyebrows fly up in surprise.

"You been livin' in a cave?" he asked, incredulously. "It's in Calormen. The Great Empire," he stressed, when she still looked confused.

"And we are to be sold as slaves, there," Lucy asked, looking for clarification.

"Of course," the boy told her. "If you make it that far, anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" Lucy demanded, and the boy shrugged.

"One or two always gets it into their head that they can escape," he said, still braiding leather. "Cap'n Aziz kills 'em to make an example to the rest."

A low rumble went up around the hold at the boy's words, and he looked up at the sound in surprise.

"Well, if you don't make trouble, you won't get any from Cap'n Aziz," he said, as if he were talking to simpletons. "He's not out to hurt any of you; he needs you all in good condition for the market."

"Everyone, please calm down," Lucy called out, and the muttering subsided, although everyone was still glaring at the boy.

"Why'd they listen to you like that?" the boy asked, curiously. "You ain't nobody; you're just a little, like me."

Lucy was about to tell him who she truly was, when she caught Khyldaer shaking his head out of the corner of her eye. She nodded in acquiescence to his silent request, but the boy caught the exchange, anyway.

"Cap'n Aziz was thinkin' you was some kind of noble with that fancy armor and all," the boy said. "I guess he was right. But, what were you doing in Narnia? There's nothing there but snow and statues. And that creepy Witch," he added, with a dramatic shudder.

"We were lost," Lucy said, seized by sudden inspiration. "We didn't even know we'd entered Narnia."

"Archenlanders, then," the boy said, nodding sagely. "Didn't know they had the Creatures, too."

"Aslan's people are many places," Khyldaer said, his deep voice startling the boy.

"No matter," the boy said, shrugging. "Wherever you're from, you'll all sell at market. Everyone does, in the end."

"So, you've seen this before," Lucy said.

"Been on the ship since I was five," the boy said, his chest puffing out with pride. "I'm Cap'n Aziz's most trusted cabin boy; that's why I get to watch the lamps down here."

"This Cap'n Aziz trusts you?" Lucy asked, carefully, wondering if it was possible to get the boy on their side.

"With his very life," the boy said, proudly. "I saved him from a slave that got out of the pens, last year."

"You would defend the one who owns you?" Khyldaer asked, in disgust.

It was then that Lucy saw the marks burned into the boy's forearms. Some sort of brand, she supposed, and the thought of anyone being marked like that made her sick.

"Cap'n Aziz is a good master," the boy said, defensively. "He gave me a good life here on the ship."

"And in return, you just have to sell others into the same hell," Glorian spoke up, furiously.

This started up another round of grumbling from her people, punctuated by growling from Paan and the Bear brothers. But this time, Lucy didn't make any move to quiet them. She'd seen the shocked look that had crossed the boy's face for just a moment, when Glorian had spoken, and the noise only seemed to make him more anxious, fidgeting in place although he didn't move.

Finally, the noise died down on its own, and the boy glared at all of them, his face crimson with embarrassment.

"You probably deserve to be sold into slavery!" he snapped, and Lucy thought she could see tears in his eyes.

"Do we, really?" Lucy asked, quietly, catching the boy's attention. As he looked at her, she added, "Did you?"

The boy stared at her in shock before bursting into silent tears. His legs were curled up to his chest and he buried his face in his knees, shaking with pure misery. Lucy wondered what his life had been like before he'd been made a slave, if he could even remember such a life. She also wondered if anyone had ever reminded him that he'd had life, before, or if life on the slave ship was all he really knew.

"You don't have to live like this," Lucy said, quietly, reaching through the bars as far as she could toward the boy, her fingers just barely brushing his arm. "If you help us-"

"Can't-" the boy said, sniffing as he lifted his head to look at her with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. "Cap'n Aziz kills mutineers. Hangs them from the riggin' for the birds to peck at until they die."

Lucy flinched at the all-too-vivid imagery, but the boy wasn't paying attention to her, anymore.

"Shouldn't even be talkin' to you," he said, harshly, grabbing the leather strips off the floor and standing up. "Get someone else to watch the lamps."

"Wait!" Lucy called out, desperately, seeing her chance to reach the boy slipping through her fingers. "What is you name?"

The boy paused at the foot of the stairs, but he didn't turn around, and for a moment, Lucy didn't think that he was going to answer her. But he finally spoke, his voice so low that she could barely hear him.

"Caspar," he whispered. "My name is Caspar."

Then he disappeared up the stairs, the door slamming shut behind him before Lucy could say anything else. He was replaced a few minutes later by another boy, this one older, with a mean expression on his face. He was completely silent as he worked, and the one time Lucy tried to engage him in conversation, he thrust his stick through the bars and whacked her legs, hard. The pain had her gasping and curling in on herself, scooting to the back of the cell out of his range.

Auric and several others had started snarling at the boy after he'd hit her, but they wisely stayed back, not giving him the chance to hit anyone else. The boy, for his part, completely ignored them. It was clear that they didn't exist to him until he was forced to deal with them.

Curling up at the back of her cell, Lucy shifted around until she wasn't putting pressure on the bruises that were already starting to form on her legs. As soon as she'd settled, Auric crawled into her lap and curled up against her chest, nuzzling the side of her face as she wrapped her arms around him.

Then, finally giving in to the tears she'd resisted up until then, she buried her face in Auric's soft fur and cried, not caring who saw her.

_'Aslan, help us,'_ she prayed, quietly, wondering if the Lion could even hear her. _'We're in trouble, and I don't know what to do.'_

She finally drifted off to sleep, with Auric still curled up close, and just before sleep overtook her, she thought she could hear a deep purring near her ear.

_'Rest, my daughter,'_ she thought she heard, and then blackness slipped over her.


	23. Finding Strength

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed. Check my profile for the link to an absolutely gorgeous cover for _Trial by Fire,_ made by Nyala Necheyev.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Finding Strength  
**

_When she opened her eyes, she was no longer on the ship, but in a sunlit clearing. She was lying back against something soft and warm, and when she looked up, she found herself looking in Aslan's golden eyes._

_"Am I dreaming?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer. _

_"Yes, Dear One," the Lion rumbled, his deep voice reverberating through her. _

_"We're still on that slave ship," Lucy said, and Aslan inclined his head in a slow nod. "Will you rescue us?" she asked, and her heart sank when Aslan hesitated. _

_"I cannot," he said, at last, and Lucy felt tears well up in her eyes at his answer. _

_"Why, Aslan?" she pleaded. "We need you. I need you. I can't-"_

_"You are far stronger than you know," Aslan told her, cutting her off, mid-sentence. "You are able to bear this burden, Valiant Queen."_

_Lucy nodded, brushing her tears away, resolutely. She wasn't sure if she was strong enough, but Aslan was sure, and that was all she needed. _

_"Where will you be?" she asked, instead. _

_"There are others who need me," he said, simply. _

_"Aslan?" Lucy asked, quietly, "if we don't – if the worst happens, will Peter, Susan, and Edmund know?"_

_"They will," Aslan told her, and Lucy nodded. _

_"Will you take care of them?" she asked, wistfully, wondering if she was ever going to see her siblings again. _

_"I am with them, always," Aslan said. "As I am with you."_

_Lucy could feel her eyes growing heavy, then, and the light in the clearing was going dark. Even as she wondered how it was possible to fall asleep in a dream, her eyes fell closed. Before darkness overtook her, she felt Aslan's purr rumbling through his chest, and could hear his voice coming from somewhere above her head. _

_"Rest, Dear One. And remember that you are not alone."_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next morning, the surly boy was the one who came down to light the sconces along the wall. But, it was Caspar who brought the captives their breakfast, and Lucy was glad to see that they hadn't scared the other boy off, yesterday. She was still hoping to convince him to help them.

Caspar had been silent from the moment he'd entered the hold, and he kept his head down as he worked, avoiding the eyes that stared at him from behind the bars. He seemed almost embarrassed that he was walking free while they were caged up, although she wondered how free he truly was.

He still carried his stick, but when he banged on the bars it was almost a half-hearted attempt. When he approached Lucy's cell, with bowls of the same, watery gruel as yesterday, she reached out to take the bowls before he could drop them.

"Thank you," she said, quietly, and he looked so surprised that she wondered if he'd ever heard the words, before.

"You'd best eat up," he said, gruffly, snatching his hand away when her fingers brushed his, like he'd been burned at the contact. "Tarkaan Rehamas isn't going to be very happy if you arrive at the market in poor condition."

"And who is Tarkaan Rehamas?" Lucy asked, curiously, as she started to eat. "I thought the captain of this ship was called Aziz."

"Tarkaan Rehamas is Cap'n Aziz's patron," Caspar told her. "He's the one who owns the ship and sends Cap'n Aziz out on collection runs."

"He is the one with the power," Khyldaer spoke up, shrewdly. "The one who holds the purse strings."

Caspar flushed a deep red, sensing that he'd let too much slip, but Khyldaer's words had given Lucy an idea.

"Caspar," she asked, carefully," does Captain Aziz answer to this Tarkaan Rehamas?"

"The Tarkaan is a very important man," Caspar hedged, which was probably as close to a yes as she was going to get. "And Cap'n Aziz is bound to serve him."

"Like a slave?" Lucy asked, and Caspar's eyes went wide with shock.

"No, no, no!" he gasped, a horrified tone in his voice. "Cap'n Aziz is not a slave! Never-"

"Caspar, it's okay!" Lucy entreated, reaching through the bars of her cell to grab the other boy's arm.

He shied away at the contact, a grimace of pain crossing his face, but he froze when Lucy tightened her grip. He was completely still, trembling under her hand as she carefully pushed the sleeve of his shirt up the length of his arm.

Hidden by the rough cloth was a dark bruise that stretched from his wrist up to his elbow. Lucy heard a sympathetic hiss from one of the Narnians, but all of her attention was focused on Caspar.

"Who did this?" she asked, softly, but the boy shook his head, misery plain on his face. "Did Captain Aziz hurt you?" she pressed, insistently, and the tears that sprang to his eyes were all the answer she needed.

"I want to go home," Caspar whispered, so quiet that she could barely hear him.

"So, help us," Lucy begged. "You can come with us when we-"

Caspar shook his head, cutting her off even as his shoulders hunched like he was expecting a beating.

"There is no escape," he whispered, as though he was afraid of being overheard. "Not for any of us. You'll all be sold at Tashbaan, and I'll remain here on the ship."

"We will get you out of here,' Lucy vowed, suddenly, holding onto Caspar's arm when he would have pulled away.

She knew it was reckless, knew that there was a chance that none of them were going to make it home. But, something protective flared up inside her at the heartbroken look on Caspar's face, and she couldn't say anything else. She'd turned the boy's world upside down, yesterday, making him think of things that he'd been avoiding for years, and she wanted to make it right.

"We will get you out of here," she repeated, emphatically. "You'll come to Narnia with us, and then you can go home."

Caspar just shook his head, clearly not believing her. He pulled his arm out of her grip and headed for the door, but Lucy stopped him before he could start up the stairs.

"Caspar?" she called out. "Would you tell Captain Aziz that I wish to speak with him?"

"He'll never come down here," Caspar told her, but Lucy wasn't going to let that discourage her.

"Just tell him, please," she requested.

Caspar disappeared up the stairs without a word, and Lucy wondered if he was going to deliver her message. The surly boy came back, but Lucy didn't even attempt to engage him in conversation. Instead, she took a seat in the center of her cell and waited for Captain Aziz to show up.

Her plan, such as it was, was only tenuous at best. And she had no real idea what she was going to say to Aziz when he showed up. If he showed up at all. Her trepidation must have shown on her face, because Auric nudged her arm, getting her attention as she looked down at the Fox.

"You are a Queen of Narnia," he reminded her. "He is nothing more than a thief and murderer."

His words were little comfort, when she was locked in a cage, but she took a deep breath to try and quell the butterflies in her stomach.

_'I wish Susan was here,'_ she thought. _'She'd know what to do.'_

Her older sister had always protected her back home, whether from the neighborhood bullies or from their brothers' teasing. But, Susan was back at Cair Paravel, and Lucy was all alone in the middle of the sea.

Not completely alone, she was reminded, when Auric leaned against her. Looking around at her fellow captives, she was reminded that she'd sworn to protect her people when she was crowned Queen, and being reminded of that gave her the courage she'd been looking for.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly the light from the doorway went out, and she looked up in shock, thinking that someone had shut the door. Instead, a hulking behemoth of a man stood in the doorway, blocking the sunlight. As he descended the stairs, the surly boy leapt to his feet and bowed, deeply. This had to be the infamous Captain Aziz.

Aziz ignored the boy, shouldering past him to stalk over to Lucy's cell, glaring at her as she stood up to meet him.

"So, you're the little wench who's been causing so much trouble," he growled, and Lucy felt the butterflies in her stomach start up again at the fury in his eyes.

But, she wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by the man. Not when so many of her people were depending on her. If he was expecting a meek, little mouse, he was going to be sorely disappointed. He was going to find out just what it meant to deal with a Queen of Narnia.

"Captain Aziz," she said, never breaking away from his direct gaze. "Thank you for your time."

Aziz laughed, clearly amused by her politeness, but Lucy wasn't done.

"I want better food for my people," she told him. "Blankets for when we sleep at night, medical supplies, and my belt with the crystal vial."

Aziz wasn't laughing, now, she noted with satisfaction. Instead, he looked momentarily stunned, before a scowl fixed itself firmly on his face.

"And just who are you to make demands of me?" he growled, taking a menacing step towards her.

In answer, Lucy stepped toward him, crossing her arms across her chest in defiance.

"I am Queen Lucy of Narnia," she said, quietly, figuring that she had nothing left to lose with the admission. "And you will give me what I ask for."

"And why would I do that?" Aziz demanded, recovering from his shock.

"Because you need us," Lucy told him, nodding at her fellow captives to include them in her statement. "You need our cooperation."

"You're slaves," Aziz spit at her, but she refused to back down.

"How do you think Tarkaan Rehamas will react when we arrive at the market, and he finds a ship full of sick slaves?" she asked, challengingly. "None of us will sell if we're in no condition to even leave the ship."

"Maybe I should kill one or two of the smaller ones as an example," Aziz threatened, but Lucy just gave a humorless laugh.

"If you do that," she told him, "then you will lose all of us. Your patron will be very unhappy with a hold full of dead slaves, won't he? What do you think will happen to you, then?"

"You would kill yourselves?" Aziz demanded, incredulously.

"When we die, we will be welcome in Aslan's paws," Lucy told him, knowing it for nothing less than the absolute truth. "But, you, Captain – you will have to answer to a very angry man who has wasted a great deal of money on you."

She couldn't be sure with the dim lighting in the hold, but she thought that Aziz had gone pale at her words. Clearly, she'd struck a nerve.

She waited, patiently, while Aziz breathed heavily, struggling to control himself. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked away, disappearing up the stairs without looking back. The surly boy had followed him, scurrying in his wake, and they were left alone in the hold.

A short while later, Caspar came down into the hold, his arms loaded down with a pile of blankets. He distributed the blankets among the captives, stopping last at Lucy's cell, an astonished look on his face.

"No one has ever stood up to Cap'n Aziz like that," he said, an awestruck tone in his voice. "No one."

"I had nothing left to lose," Lucy told him, taking the blanket that Caspar held out to her. "And he's nothing but a coward at heart."

Caspar just smiled, slightly, in reply. He hurried out of the hold but returned a few minutes later, this time with bandages and jars in his arms.

"Heal-all salve," he explained, as he gave her the jars. "The men use it on their injuries."

He also pressed her precious vial into her hand, and she was delighted to see that it was still as full as it had been when she'd left Cair Paravel.

"Thank you," she told him, and Caspar blushed at the praise.

Making sure that the vial was capped, securely, Lucy passed it through the bars of her cell, where it traveled down one side and up the other, everyone who needed it taking one drop before passing it along. Lucy watched, critically, to make sure that the healing was taking effect on Khyldaer and Glorian, since she was still worried about their legs.

When the vial made it back to her, she handed it to Caspar, nodding at him when he looked at her in surprise.

"Just one drop," she told him, and he tipped a drop into his mouth, skeptically, before handing it back to her.

Then, he stared in amazement as the bruise on his arm disappeared completely, leaving unmarked skin behind.

"Magic," he breathed, but Lucy shook her head.

"Aslan's blessing," she told him.

"Only thanks to you," Khyldaer spoke up from across the hold. "When they sing of this in tales, they shall call you Silvertongue."

"We're not out of the woods, yet," Lucy reminded everyone, before they could get too excited. "But, maybe we're seeing the light through the trees."


	24. Ambush

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing.

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Ambush**

Their second day in the refugee camp dawned bright and early, the sun shining down through the trees. Peter and Edmund were at the far edge of the clearing, swords held at the ready as they squared off against each other.

They'd started out alone, but had quickly gained an audience, with the refugee Creatures taking up sides as they watched them spar. To Peter's surprise, the blind Minotaur was rooting for him, along with the Tigers. Most of the Wolves were on Edmund's side, including a litter of half-grown pups that had mobbed the younger King upon their arrival and had swarmed around him wherever he went in the camp, refusing to leave his side.

Their army wasn't explicitly taking sides, although Peter was sure he'd heard one of the Cats making bets with the Hounds as to the outcome. He hadn't heard the stakes of the bet, but he had overheard them discussing his and Edmund's chances, and the consensus seemed to be that they were evenly matched; with his apparently natural skill versus Edmund's years of dedication and practice. He was also taller than Edmund, and had a longer reach, but his brother had speed and agility on his side. It was anyone's guess as to which one of them was going to come out on top.

Neither of them was wearing armor, although Edmund had wrapped his knuckles with thin strips of leather before they'd started. It looked almost like he was wearing half-gloves, and Peter wondered what purpose they were supposed to serve.

Oreius stood on the sidelines, watching them critically, and Peter had no doubt that he'd be telling them if they did anything wrong. Philip stood at the Centaur's side, shifting from hoof to hoof as they waited for the sparring to start.

Edmund raised Shafelm up into a guard position, bowing to Peter although his eyes never left his brother's face. Peter returned the salute, and then they circled each other, warily, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Instinct had Peter keeping his eyes on Edmund's shoulders, knowing that he'd see any movement there, first, before his sword began to move. Edmund, for his part, could have been looking at nothing for all his expression betrayed. His eyes barely flickered as they moved around each other, and his face was completely set in stone, giving no hint as to what he was thinking. Peter wondered how long it would take him to gain that kind of intense focus.

The crowd around them was growing restless as nothing happened, and Peter could feel himself start to join them. But, he was determined to outwait Edmund, wanting more to observe his brother than to get the fight over with.

Finally, Edmund lunged, Shafelm slicing down toward Peter's side. Peter danced away, catching the blow on the edge of Rhindon's blade and sliding his sword out from underneath. He swung Rhindon around in a half-circle, aiming for Edmund's legs with the flat of the blade to try and knock him off balance, but Edmund managed to leap over the blade.

The landing set him off balance, though, and Peter took advantage of the moment to kick Edmund's legs out from underneath him, sending him sprawling. He brought the point of his sword down toward Edmund's throat, but his brother rolled out of the way, and Peter got an idea of what the leather strips were for when he slapped the blade away with the palm of his hand.

The impact had to hurt, but the leather protected Edmund's hand from the worst of the injury, and it gave him a precious few seconds to get back to his feet. Peter resolved to make himself a set of hand guards as soon as they were done.

Balancing on the balls of his feet, Edmund raised his sword to Peter in a mocking salute as he circled him, watching for an opening. But, Peter was watching his younger brother, as well, and when Edmund lunged at him, Peter was ready.

Their swords came together with a crashing sound that had half the audience jumping back in surprise. They traded blows for nearly a minute, each coming close to disarming the other on more than one occasion. Then, Peter managed to snake his way around Edmund's guard, binding his brother's blade with his and locking them together.

"Give up, yet?" he asked challengingly, taking the moment offered to rest and catch his breath.

"Never," Edmund retorted, a small smile playing on his lips. "Apparently, if I win, the Hounds have to dig latrines for a week."

"Is that what the bet is for?" Peter asked, incredulously, and Edmund chuckled.

"If you win, the Cats have to do the same," he said. "Needless to say, Hyruil is not happy with the one who made the bet."

He made a quick move that disengaged his blade from Peter's, and Peter was momentarily thrown off balance as Edmund darted out of reach. Recovering his footing, Peter pressed the attack, forcing Edmund onto the defensive as they moved all around the circle ringed by the refugees.

Finally, Peter managed to knock Shafelm out of Edmund's hand, sending the sword flying away out of reach. Edmund watched after his lost blade with a rueful expression, but he had no time to mourn the loss as Peter came at him, again.

As Peter swept the flat of his blade toward Edmund's legs, trying to knock him to the ground, again, Edmund surprised him by diving to the ground. He rolled to his feet a few feet later, a broken branch held in his hands. The branch, almost six feet long, was even taller than Edmund, but he handled the length easily.

Peter swung Rhindon at Edmund in an overhead strike and then cursed softly when the blade got lodged in the wood. Before he could free his blade, Edmund had ripped the sword out of his hands, pulling Rhindon out of his makeshift staff and jabbing the sword into the ground behind him, out of Peter's reach.

"Do you yield?" Edmund asked, and Peter scowled, good-naturedly, when he realized that he had no other option.

"I yield," he agreed, and a cheer went up from the Cats at their victory.

Edmund grinned, pulling Rhindon out of the ground and handing it to Peter, hilt first. Then, he stooped down to grab his own sword from one of the pups who'd retrieved it, the hilt clutched firmly in its mouth with the blade dragging along the grass.

"No wonder you two are Kings," a gruff voice spoke up, and Peter turned to see an old, grizzled Wolf approaching them.

"Ash," Edmund said, cautiously, but the Wolf just stopped a few feet away, lowering himself into a slow bow before the brothers.

"You have not aged," the Wolf observed, his golden eyes never leaving Edmund's.

"That's kind of complicated," was all Edmund said, but it seemed that the old Wolf wasn't really looking for an explanation.

"I wonder," he said, instead, "what the young Kings plan to do with us, now that they know of our existence."

"If you want to be left alone, then we will honor that wish," Peter said, carefully. "But, we would be honored to be able to call the Black Mountain pack our friends and allies."

Ash didn't say anything; he just turned and trotted away. Peter stared after the Wolf in confusion.

"Who was that?" he asked Edmund, who was staring after the Wolf with an odd expression on his face.

"Ash has led the pack in the Black Mountains for decades," he said, quietly. "He's become a legend in these parts; rumor has it that he even defied the White Witch and lived."

"He's just one Wolf," Peter pointed out, but Edmund shook his head at what he clearly considered his brother's folly.

"There have been challengers to Ash's authority for years," he said. "But none of them have ever beaten him."

"Until now," a new voice spoke up, and Peter turned to see Cyrran standing nearby. "Of course," the Wolf continued, a rueful tone in her voice, "I nearly died in the attempt."

"So, what was that all about?" Peter asked, wondering why they'd been approached by the old Wolf in the first place.

"You said that you wanted to be friends and allies," Cyrran reminded him. "None of that was going to happen without Ash's blessing."

"But, he didn't say anything," Peter protested.

"He didn't say no, did he?" Cyrran retorted. "That's all the blessing he ever gives."

"Well," Peter said, coming to a decision. "Let's talk about an alliance, then."

He and Edmund followed Cyrran to the stone outcropping that they'd learned was the pack leader's symbolic throne. They were trailed by the pups, who were still bouncing excitedly around Edmund, but to Peter's surprise, Cyrran let them stay, watching the pups with indulgent amusement as they draped themselves over Edmund's lap as soon as he was seated on the grass.

The rest of the refugees had joined them, along with the Narnian army, which was fine with Peter. This alliance involved more than just the three of them; he wanted everyone there to have a chance to have their say.

They discussed the terms of their potential alliance, coming surprisingly quickly to an agreement that satisfied all parties. Peter made sure that everyone who had something to say had their chance to say it, and he found himself incorporating many of their suggestions into the terms of the alliance.

Edmund was mostly silent, letting him do most of the talking, but Peter knew his brother was observing everything that went on, even with those at the edges of the group who weren't contributing anything. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and Peter was glad to have Edmund at his back.

Finally, the talking came to an end, and Peter held his hand out to Cyrran. After a moment, the Wolf placed her paw into his outstretched hand, sealing their agreement.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in casual companionship with the refugees. When the pups wanted to start a fire as the sun was going down, Peter went with Haydrae, the Minotaur, and the Tigers, to collect wood. Haydrae, he'd discovered, had developed a keen sense of hearing to compensate for the loss of his sight, and he moved through the trees with an uncanny ease.

Peter had expected resentment from the Minotaur, who'd served the Witch before defecting to the other side, but the enormous Creature was actually quite good-natured. He was surprisingly gentle, despite his fearsome appearance, and Peter found himself at ease with the Minotaur.

As they trooped through the woods, Haydrae was telling him how he'd come to join Ash's pack, and Peter found himself being fascinated by the tale. Haydrae had defied the White Witch after she had ordered him to murder a Centaur colt, unable to bring himself to harm a child. The Witch, in retaliation, had blinded Haydrae and left him for dead.

"But, I was just too stubborn to die," the Minotaur rumbled, as they walked. "I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction."

"Good for you," Peter said, surprised to realize that he meant the sentiment. "But, how did you make it all the way to the Black Mountains?"

"Got lost," Haydrae said, ruefully. "I was wandering around in a blizzard when Ash found me, half frozen. He could have killed me, but he didn't. He saved my life."

"Here we are," one of the Tigers spoke up, before Peter could say anything. "We're far enough out to get the wood for the fire."

"May we?" Peter asked, respectfully, of the tree nymph that peeked down at them from the branches.

The nymph nodded, and he and Haydrae started picking up the fallen branches that littered the ground. The Tigers took some of their own, as well, dragging them along the ground, and when their arms were full, the group started back to the clearing.

They'd almost made it back when they heard a chilling, high-pitched scream fill the air. Dropping the wood in his arms, Peter charged toward the clearing, with Haydrae at his side. The Minotaur's nostrils flared as he scented the air, and he snarled, a low sound that built up in his throat.

"Intruders," he growled, and Peter suddenly pitied anyone foolish enough to get in the Minotaur's path.

They burst into the clearing to find it in chaos, the Narnians and the refugees facing an army straight out of nightmares. As he charged into the battle, he snatched a flaming piece of wood out of the fire and brandished it as a weapon. He fought his way to Edmund's side, defending his brother's back as the younger boy gasped for breath.

There was a cut high on Edmund's cheek, with blood that dripped slowly down the side of his face. He was holding Shafelm in his off hand, and a quick glance revealed that his other arm dangled uselessly at his side. His shoulder was a shredded mess where something had caught his arm with razor-sharp claws, and Peter adjusted his stance to compensate for Edmund's vulnerability.

The battle was short and bloody, screams filling the air from both sides. Peter barely saw the things he was fighting, just glimpses of claws and teeth that were going to haunt his nightmares for days. At one point, he found himself being separated from Edmund, but when he managed to look over in his brother's direction, he saw dark hair and was reassured.

When the fight ended, the intruders disappearing as quickly as they appeared, Peter looked around him in shock. No one had escaped injury, not even the pups, one of whom had an ear torn practically all the way off. The ones that were badly hurt were being tended to by those who could still stand, and Peter stumbled over to join them.

Ignoring the burning sensation in his side, he made his way over to his packs and started digging through them for the medical supplies he knew were packed inside. Hengroen was nearby, squealing with rage as he pounded something into dust beneath his powerful hooves, but Peter determined that the stallion wasn't hurt and figured that leaving him alone would be the best option.

Time passed in a blur as he patched up his people, moving almost by rote as he bandaged injuries. He had no idea how much time had passed before he felt someone grab his shoulder, and he looked up, blearily, to see Oreius standing over him.

"You need to sit down," the Centaur told him, firmly, and it was testament to how tired he was that he didn't argue.

He just sat where Oreius placed him, sitting in a numb haze as his own injuries were tended to. He felt something sharp poking his side, and when he glanced down, he saw Oreius stitching the gash on his side shut with tiny, tight stitches.

"Where's Edmund?" he asked, suddenly, realizing that he hadn't seen his brother since the fight.

"He is-" Oreius started to say, but then he trailed off when he looked around and didn't see the younger King.

"Edmund!" Peter yelled, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side as he forced himself to his feet to look for his brother.

But, Edmund was nowhere to be seen, and Peter started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Edmund!"


	25. Shatter

**Author's Note:** Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been way too long since I've updated, and I'm sorry. Real life got in the way. But, I got tired of having this chapter sit half-finished on my hard drive, and so I pounded out the rest of it out of sheer stubbornness. I'm going to try to update more frequently, but no promises.

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Shatter**

"His dam is on my territory!"

"Because she's been taking fish from mine!"

Susan sighed, resisting the urge to drop her head into her hands as the petitioners in front of her started squabbling, yet again. Her first day alone in Cair Paravel had been quiet, but the morning after, she'd been greeted by a crowd of Creatures gathered in the main courtyard, all of them clamoring to be heard. And to her surprise, most of them had been there with complaints.

Petty grievances that had been put aside in favor of fighting the White Witch had suddenly become important, again, after they'd been freed from the Witch's tyranny. And rather than trying to sort their problems out, themselves, a good deal of Creatures had evidently decided that their problems could only be solved by Narnia's new monarchs.

She and Vaius had found themselves with a challenge on their hands, trying to sort everyone out and make sure everyone was heard, and the stately Faun had finally resorted to threatening to throw everyone out of the castle if they didn't start behaving themselves. After the chaos had calmed down, Vaius gotten the petitioners sorted into groups, and he'd taken charge of presenting each group to Susan over the last two days.

Susan had never thought that all the time that she'd spent mediating between Peter and Edmund would have ever had a practical use. But, being the middle sister had finally come in handy, having honed her patience over the years. Which was good, because it turned out that she needed every ounce of patience that she could muster.

Especially with the pair of Creatures standing in front of her, now. Beaver had come before her with a complaint about his neighbor, an Otter named Broadfoot. Both of the Creatures had come in complaining that the other was intruding on their territory, and they'd spent the last half hour grumbling, and glaring, and snapping not-so-thinly veiled insults at one another.

And Susan could feel her patience starting to wear thin.

"Let me just clarify this," she said, interrupting them before they could dissolve into fighting, yet again. "Each of you claims that the other is on their territory."

"She acts like she owns the whole Western Wood!" Beaver snapped, glaring at Broadfoot.

"I'm not the one polluting the river, _Cousin_," Broadfoot sneered, and Beaver snarled at the Otter, showing his teeth.

"You're no cousin of mine," Beaver growled, and for a moment, Susan wondered if she was going to have to separate the two of them.

"We're all cousins under Aslan's blessing," she said, instead, and both of the Creatures had the grace to look ashamed at her gentle rebuke. "Now," she went on, when they both finally stayed silent for a few moments, "would you be able to show me where each of your territories is located?"

Beaver grumbled something unintelligible under his breath while he glared at Broadfoot, but he finally nodded, with obvious reluctance. After a moment, Broadfoot followed suit. At Susan's nod, Vaius brought out the map that they'd been using for the last two days to help arbitrate the various territory battles. It was the same map that Peter and Oreius had used to plan their battle against the Witch, and over the last two days, Susan had added her own notes to it, finding the map a useful tool in settling disputes. She only hoped that they could find or make a new one, soon, as this one was getting rather ragged.

Susan sank down to the floor in front of Beaver and Broadfoot and bent over the map, ignoring the slightly disapproving look that Vaius shot her way. The Faun had very definite opinions of how a Queen should act, and kneeling on the floor clearly did not meet his standards of acceptable behavior. But Susan had to give him credit, he was trying very hard to change those opinions and not be quite so rigid. And in return, she tried to make things as stress-free as possible for him.

Which was why, when Vaius interrupted them nearly half an hour later to tell her that the cooks had finished lunch, she sat back on her heels and carefully folded the map up.

"We're about to have lunch," she explained to Beaver and Broadfoot. "Will you join us?"

"I would be honored," Broadfoot said, shooting Beaver a snide look. "So long as I don't have to sit beside _him_."

_'Clearly, we still have some work to do,'_ Susan thought, with a quiet sigh, as Beaver and Broadfoot started snapping at each other. _'It looks like this is going to be another long day.'_

But, she resolutely pushed the territorial disputes to the back of her mind. She'd made a promise to Vaius to take some time to herself every day, even if only a couple of minutes, to avoid becoming stressed out. And, today, lunch seemed to be the ideal time, especially if she was going to once again be working through the night.

She led Beaver and Broadfoot through the castle, bypassing the formal dining hall much to both Creatures' obvious surprise. Instead, she went through the kitchens and out a small door at the back of the room that led to an overgrown, sun-dappled path. And at the end of that path was a beautiful little garden.

She'd discovered the small garden almost by accident yesterday when she'd been on her relaxation time. At Vaius' urging, she'd gone for a walk around the grounds to clear her head and get some fresh air, and she'd stumbled upon a path that was covered in weeds and overwhelming vines. She couldn't explain the impulse that had led her to push her way through the vines (perhaps some of Lucy's adventurous curiosity had gotten to her), but at the end of the path, covered in dirt and scratches from many tiny bramble bushes, she discovered this gem of a garden.

Vaius, it seemed, hadn't even been aware of the garden's existence, and he hadn't been able to tell Susan anything about it. No one left at the castle had, really. But, she hadn't been discouraged; if anything, she'd been even more determined to find out about who'd created such a beautiful little piece of paradise.

She was taken out of her musings by their arrival in the garden, where several other of the Cair's occupants were waiting for them. They'd been joined for lunch by the kitchen staff, a pair of Jaguar sisters that had appointed themselves Susan's personal guard, and Khyllian. Seeing the last made Susan smile; the arms-mistress had sequestered herself away with the troops left at the Cair for the last couple of days, and Susan would have thought that she was a ghost for all that she saw of her.

Greetings were exchanged, briefly, and the food, which was on covered dishes, was served. Everyone settled down to eat, happily without any squabbling between Beaver and Broadfoot. The pair seemed to have set their grudge aside for the duration of the meal, and Susan was just starting to relax, the tension of the last few days starting to drain away.

Of course, that was when all Hell broke loose.

The only warning that Susan had that anything was wrong was a faint scream coming from somewhere above them. The next second, something slammed into her chest with enough force to knock her out of her seated position, and she barely caught herself with a hand even as she wrapped her other hand around the bundle on her chest to keep from losing it.

Khyllian had been startled into action by the disturbance, and the Centaur bolted to her hooves with far more grace than Susan would have expected from the huge Creature. She produced a small but incredibly deadly looking blade from somewhere (Susan couldn't see any place where she could have possibly concealed it), and was looking around the small space with a fierce scowl on her face.

For her part, Susan looked down at the bundle in her arms, surprised to see a mass of gray and white feathers pressed against her chest. Then, the feathers shifted and a weary golden eye peered up at her. More movement, and Susan helped the small Osprey struggle to stand up on his talons, both of them mindful of the sharp talons pressing gently into the bare skin of her hands.

"My Queen," the Osprey gasped, sounding absolutely exhausted. "I bear terrible news."

"Water," Susan snapped, as the Bird panted in her hands, and a second later, a small glass of water was pressed into her free hand.

She took the glass from a member of the kitchen staff, absently making a note to find out the Dryad's name to be able to thank him personally, later. Holding the glass out to the Osprey, she watched as the Bird gratefully drank the water slowly, the heaving of his chest easing as he calmed down.

"What news do you have?" she asked, when the Osprey lifted his head, again, staring at her with eyes that were filled with more light than before.

"I was a part of Queen Lucy's guard," the Osprey started to explain, and Susan's heart sank like a stone in her chest. "I regret to inform you, Majesty, that we were attacked a day ago."

Around them, the small garden erupted into a flurry of furious voices, rising in anger so quickly that Susan could barely hear herself think. But, they quieted just as quickly when Khyllian whistled, sharply, throwing everyone into a startled silence.

"What kind of attack?" Susan asked, struggling to keep her voice calm, even as fear made her heart pound wildly in her chest. "What happened to my sister and the rest of her guard?"

"We were set upon by slave traders," the Osprey told her, solemnly. "The guard fought bravely, even Queen Lucy, thought Captain Khyldaer tried to get her to flee to safety, but we were outmatched, and the men were ruthless."

"Men," Susan echoed, catching onto the word the Osprey had used. "You were attacked by men. But, there are no humans in Narnia."

"If they were truly slave traders," Khyllian spoke up, slowly, "then it is a very good chance that they are from the Calormen Empire." There was a stark concern etched on the Centaur's face, and Susan was reminded that the arms-mistress, too, had a younger sibling in danger.

"Do you think that it could have been these Calormene?" Susan asked, turning her attention back to the Osprey.

"The men were dark-skinned, as are the people of the desert," the Osprey answered. "But, I cannot tell you any more than that."

Susan nodded, taking a deep breath to fight back the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She absently thanked the Osprey, passing the exhausted Bird to a nearby Faun with the strict instruction to have him seen by Shanza, their resident Healer. Then, she turned her attention back to Khyllian.

"Do you know these Calormene?" she asked, without preamble, and the Centaur nodded, quickly.

"I do, your Majesty," came the answer.

"If my sister, and our people, were taken by them as slaves," Susan pressed, "do you believe that they would still be alive?"

"It is possible that some may have been killed in the initial attack," Khyllian said, bluntly, and Susan couldn't hide the pained wince that crossed her features. "But, I do believe that they would have made every attempt to keep as many alive as possible. You cannot sell dead bodies on the slave market, after all."

"Do you know how to get to the Calormene Empire?" was Susan's next question, and again the Centaur nodded.

"It would take several days," she cautioned, "although there may be a shorter route if we were to attempt to go through Archenland."

"Another country?" Susan guessed, getting an affirmative reply. "You said attempt to?"

"Archenland was once a great ally of Narnia," Vaius spoke up, surprising her. "But, one hundred years of battling back the White Witch from their own borders has made them wary of strangers, and they have closed in on themselves. They may not welcome your presence with open arms."

_'Or at all,'_ Susan guessed, hearing the unspoken warning in the Faun's voice. "If it is indeed a shorter route," she said, after a moment, "then we will go through Archenland."

"And if we encounter resistance?" Khyllian asked, although she didn't sound intimidated by the idea.

"We will deal with it, then," Susan answered, firmly. _'And hope that any diplomatic mistakes we make during our rescue mission don't irrevocably poison future relations with Archenland.'_

"How soon can you get a rescue party ready to leave?" she asked Khyllian, and the Centaur considered her answer for a moment.

"We would be outfitting for speed, not force," she mused out loud. "And small numbers, to keep from being bogged down – two hours, Majesty."

"Make it happen," Susan said, quietly, and the Centaur sprang out of the garden and down the path, thundering toward the armory with Susan's Cat guards right on her hooves.

That left Susan alone with the kitchen staff, Beaver, Broadfoot, and Vaius. A heavy silence had fallen over the garden, broken only by the sound of Creatures shifting in their places without trying to disturb her. Every tiny sound was slamming against her frayed nerves like a million bullets, and she suddenly couldn't take one more second.

"Majesty-" Vaius started, hesitantly, and Susan cut him off with a slightly-shaking upraised hand.

"Please leave," she whispered, not daring to speak any louder for fear of losing her tenuous grip on her emotions.

To her immense relief, Vaius didn't protest her words, instead quickly herding everyone out of the garden to leave her alone. Susan listened as the sounds of their footfalls faded in the distance, still sitting in the middle of the grove, her back ramrod straight and her eyes completely dry, in case anyone came back to check on her.

Only when she was sure that she was completely alone did she allow herself to fall apart.

She curled in on herself as she buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking wildly with the force of her silent sobs. She was crying, tears streaking down her face, but there was no sound coming out. She could barely breathe through the force of the sobs wracking her body; she could only lie on the ground and cry, helplessly.

When her sobs finally calmed, she wanted to do nothing more than stay on the ground, among the peaceful trees. But, she forced herself to get to her feet, wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks and smudging her face with the dirt on her hands. Her dress was wrinkled and stained, something that would have horrified her any other time. But she simply couldn't bring herself to care at that point. There were more important things to worry about.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Nearly two hours after the interrupted luncheon in the garden, Susan found herself in the armory, being outfitted in chainmail by Khyllian. The arms-mistress had instructed her to dress lightly, and Nalene, her attendant, had brought Susan a shirt and pair of pants that she'd scrounged out of Peter's room. She'd bluntly informed Susan that it would be easier if she didn't have to deal with skirts, and Susan was inclined to agree with her. She still remembered how difficult it had been to move around on the battlefield with a dress, and how she'd eventually wound up slashing the skirt of the beautiful dress to be able to move more freely.

Now, she shifted under Khyllian's critical eye as the Centaur adjusted how the chainmail was sitting on her shoulders. She winced as a bit of fabric rubbed irritatingly against her skin, and she reached up to smooth out the fold. She didn't want to have to deal with anything that could prove a distraction on their mission.

"This doesn't look like the same armor I wore during the battle with the Witch," she observed, looking herself over in the mirror.

"I've been modifying it, Majesty," Khyllian told her, as she belted a length of sturdy leather around Susan's waist like a belt. "When I have time, I will make more appropriate pieces of armor for you and your siblings, but for now, you will have to make do with one of Edmund's old sets."

"You can call me Susan, you know," Susan spoke up, quietly. "You call my brother by his first name, after all."

"I have known your brother for five years," Khyllian commented. "I've only known you for a few days; it would not be proper."

"I think, that given the circumstances," Susan replied, "we can change that. It's going to be a long ride into Calormen if everyone insists on calling me Majesty the whole way."

"Very well, then, Susan," Khyllian said, trying the name out to see how it sounded. "Your brother had similar feelings on being called by his title when he first arrived, as well." She made a couple more minute adjustments to Susan's armor, and then she stepped back. "There. You're ready."

Susan eyed herself in the full length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. She was sharply reminded of just a few days ago when she was helping Lucy with her own armor, and tears sprang to her eyes that she hastily dashed away. Tears wouldn't help anyone right now.

"We are going to get them back," Khyllian spoke up, as if she'd heard Susan's thoughts.

"No matter what it takes," Susan vowed, looking over at the Centaur and seeing her own fierce determination reflected in those golden eyes.

"The rest of the guard is ready to go," Khyllian told her, and Susan nodded.

"I just have a stop to make in the infirmary," she said, as she headed for the door. "I need to get a message to Peter and Edmund."

In the infirmary, she found Shanza tending to the Osprey. The Bird struggled against the Dryad's hold when he spotted Susan, and Susan nodded in response to the Healer's silent question. The Dryad put the Osprey down on the lone table in the room, and the Bird hopped toward the edge of the table, his eyes fixed on Susan.

"My Queen," he said, bobbing his head.

"I don't believe I got your name, earlier," Susan remarked, as she greeted the Osprey.

"Swiftwing, Majesty," came the immediate response.

"It is good to see you looking so well, Swiftwing," Susan told him, and the Bird puffed his feathers in pleasure. "I was wondering if I might ask you a favor?"

"Anything, Majesty," Swiftwing said, promptly, and Susan silently wondered how long it would take for the Narnians to become as comfortable with her as they seemed with Edmund.

"I need someone that I can trust to bear a message to my brothers, Peter and Edmund," she told the Osprey. "They need to know what has happened to Lucy."

"I will fly until there is no more breath in my body!" the Osprey vowed, and Susan winced.

"No," she said, quietly, shaking her head. "I don't-" She broke off, closing her eyes as she tried to think of a better way to phrase what she wanted to say. "We have lost enough to the White Witch," she said, softly. "I don't want to lose anyone else, no matter what the reason. Fly swiftly and safely, but, please, if you cannot make it, pass your message onto someone else. You have already done my sister a great service by bearing news of her abduction here; I expect nothing more than that."

She hoped that Swiftwing was listening to her. She didn't want to hear that the brave Bird had died trying to reach her brothers. After a moment, Swiftwing bobbed his head in agreement, hopping to the edge of the table.

"I will bear the message as fast as I can," he told her.

"Peter and Edmund are headed into the Black Mountains," Susan told the Bird. "Please, fly carefully."

"Yes, Majesty," came the quiet response.

Then, Susan left the infirmary to go out to the main courtyard. Khyllian was waiting for her, along with Streak and Pounce, the Jaguar sisters, Baern, one of the Gryphon scouts, and a Faun called Kolvi. All of them were wearing light armor, like Susan, and Khyllian and Kolvi were both wearing swords, Kolvi's almost as big as the Centaur's.

Khyllian wordlessly handed Susan her bow and quiver, and Susan slung the quiver over her back, adjusting until it felt comfortable. Nearby, Vaius held the reins of a dun-colored horse, and Susan swung up onto the mare's back with a bit of help from the Faun, fastening her bow to a special attachment on her saddle.

"Her name is Jayz, Majesty," Vaius told her, quietly, as he patted the mare on the neck before stepping back. "She is trained to battle."

Susan nodded her thanks to the Faun, turning her attention to the other five watching her.

"We do not come back without our people," she said, her voice quiet and steady. "If any of you want out-" She let her voice trail off, but no one responded to her.

"Our main mission is to rescue them?" Streak asked, curiously.

"Rescue is our first priority," Susan said. "But, we will make sure that no one else ever enslaves our people, again."

The Cats exchanged darkly satisfied looks, and Susan knew that she'd just appealed to their rather bloodthirsty natures. Not that she really wanted to try to hold them back; her sister and several others were missing, and possibly dead, and a part of Susan wanted to cut through everything and everyone that stood in her way.

But, she pushed the impulse to the back of her mind. She wanted to get Lucy back; it was the only thing that was important, the only thing that mattered.

Susan took one last look back at Cair Paravel, not knowing how long it would be before she saw her home again. She knew that she wasn't setting foot back in Narnia unless it was with Lucy at her side.

"Let's move," she said, softly.


End file.
